


That a Broken Bone in Your Pocket, Or You Just Happy to See Me?

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Basketball, Basketball Player Jared, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Enemies to Lovers, Famous Person/Non-Famous Person, M/M, Major Character Injury, Meant To Be, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Physical Therapist Jensen, Physical Therapy, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 05:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a physical therapist who couldn't give less of a crap when he's assigned to help Chicago's hottest basketball player recover from a wrecked knee. As an NBA All Star, Jared Padalecki's crass and smug as all hell, but he's also persistent and committed to this thing they've got going on.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spn_meanttobe](https://spn-meanttobe.livejournal.com/)'s Here I Am:  
Born into a real-estate dynasty, Brandt Wainwright chose football over the family business, and now he's a Super Bowl MVP. That streak of good fortune runs out the day Brandt crashes his SUV into a tree. During the long recuperation, the fun-loving quarterback becomes cranky and sullen—until private nurse Ciara Dennison shows up for duty.
> 
> Ciara has zero interest in sports, or in tall, blond jocks with overblown egos. She's dated a man in the public eye before, and she's not repeating that mistake. Somehow Brandt keeps breaking down all her defenses, seeing through her facade to the sexy free spirit underneath. But once his recovery is complete, will he return to the celebrity life he knew—or choose the woman who can fulfill his dreams?

Jensen’s in the break room when the news hits. He’s pushing his fork through his rotini pasta from the night before.

Danneel, Chris, and a few others rush into the room, tripping over each other and breaking Jensen from the magazine he’s skimming at his elbow. Chris turns up the TV hanging in the corner while Danneel’s barking the channel at him.

“TNT. T_NT_ you idiot. It’s thirty-one!”

“I know what it is, shut up,” Chris snaps back.

Danneel parrots him with a pathetic impersonation of a child.

Jensen looks up and waves his fork at her. “Hey, you mind?”

She glances down at his meal then up to him. “No,” she smiles. 

“I do,” he lamely argues, ignoring how Chris shoots him an ugly face just for kicks. It happens more often than not.

Danneel points a thumb between her and Chris. “Well, we don’t.” 

“As I’ve learned.”

Her face breaks into something more excited. “Did you hear?”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his dinner. He’s starving and tired, having just taken five patients back to back, forced from room to room to room with barely a moment to breathe. He’s got another ninety minutes until he’s done with his appointments, but he’d rather snack now and then get into his paperwork before facing a long ride home. 

“I hear you two yappin’,” he says with a fake smile.

Chris claps loudly when he hits the channel. Then it gets awfully quiet aside from voices on TV rumbling about some serious matter. “Whoa, not good,” Chris groans.

Jensen takes a moment to see what they’re watching. It’s the Bulls game, he can tell that much with the wood flooring and white and red jerseys huddled together as a black-poloed trainer shoulders his way into the mess. Professionally, Jensen’s interested in what appears to be a fairly serious injury on the floor. Personally, he couldn’t give a shit. Basketball lost any meaning to him more than a decade ago. 

“I thought you had a patient,” he says around his chewing, flicking his eyes up to Danneel.

She nods to the side as she gives her full attention to the screen. “Yeah, Scott Willis.”

Jensen realizes there’s a college-aged kid standing next to her, and the kid offers Jensen a short wave, and a meager, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jensen returns much the same with a motion of his fork.

Danneel is distracted when she says, “Scott’s phone went off in the middle of our session,” with her eyes still glued to the screen.

“ESPN says Pads screwed his knee,” Scott explains, looking at Jensen for a moment.

Jensen goes back to his magazine, not giving a crap what they’re talking about or why it’s such a rush for them to see it all.

“Dude, that’s gotta be an ACL,” Chris declares, pointing at the TV. 

“My bet's on lateral,” Kristen says as she enters the room to join the crowd that’s now blocking Jensen’s view. 

He shouldn’t care that he can’t see the screen, but knowing there’s a big fuss over something he can’t even witness for himself is slightly annoying. Everyone interrupting his break is _extremely_ annoying.

“Maybe it’s a meniscus,” Danneel suggests.

Chris laughs then announces, “Twenty on ACL.”

Jensen’s kind of disturbed with how quickly everyone moves to slap money on the table. Seeing how excited they get over major injuries, he can’t believe he calls these people friends. He stares at the pile of bills in front of his plate. “You do know I’m eating here?”

Danneel smacks her lips together. “Think we’ll get him?”

“No way,” Kristen answers quickly. “He’ll probably go to Barrington. He lives up north.”

“Yeah, but we had Rose’s sprain,” Danneel argues back.

Jessica announces her entrance by saying, “’Cause he’s from West Chicago. No way would his lazy ass go all the way to Barrington. ”

Brain working, Jensen considers the fact that their clinic has taken care of a few low level Chicago athletes, and even with Derek Rose coming in for an ankle sprain, it was just a few weeks for easy care that the team’s management demanded before contract renewals. 

Their clinic is far out west in the suburbs and they get their fill of minor league baseball players, college jocks, and the average everyday John and Jane recovering from surgery. Hearing Kristen and Danneel bicker over what new patients they’ll get is just ridiculous. 

The room collectively groans and yelps, taking a step back from the TV. Jensen looks up in time to see the replay where two players run into each other, knees banging around, until one gives way and the whole leg twists to the side. Going back to real time, two trainers are assisting that player off the floor, and the guy’s knee is bent back about forty-five degrees – a good angle to keep it off the floor and the joints in place – and he’s hopping forward on his left foot. 

“Damn,” Kristen murmurs. “Boy still looks good.”

Jessica laughs and elbows her. “That _boy’s_ all in pain and you’re still objectifying him?”

Kristen puts her hands out to massage thin air and grins. “I like my men in a li’l bit of pain.”

Danneel stands and runs her hands down her shirt to straighten it. They’re all in standard gear – _Athletical_ uniform polos and khaki pants – but of course hers hugs her in all the right places. Scott Willis’s eyes roam her body while she smiles at Jensen, completely unaware. “What d’you say, Jen?” She puts her hand out. “Thumb wrestle for the new recruit?”

He flicks his eyebrows, completely unimpressed, and tries to focus on his meal. Danneel leans across the table and fusses the edges of his hair with a laugh before she pushes Scott ahead of her and people start filtering out. 

Chris stands at Jensen’s side to collect the money and nudges Jensen’s shoulder. “You want in on this?”

He takes a moment to think it over, and while he doesn’t grant much levity to their betting, he can’t help making an educated guess. “You got PCL yet?”

“It’s yours,” Chris grins. He knocks Jensen between his shoulders as Jensen fishes a twenty out of his wallet. 

He’s left in relative quiet again, except the TV’s still going loudly and the sportscasters are still blabbering on about the incident. Jensen knows basketball, even if he refuses to care anymore. He lived through the Jordan years, fell in love with Rodman’s obnoxious nature once it was on Chicago’s side, and he still remembers Kerr’s three-pointer to lock out the Suns in overtime. 

According to newscasts and headlines, this season has been one for the record books, threatening to knock down the six-time Championship legends of the Michael Jordan era. Born and bred as a sports fan in Chicago, Jensen can admit there’s a tiny corner of his heart that twists at the realization: just twenty minutes into Game Four of the Eastern Conference Finals, the Bulls’ hopes of making the Big Show are dashed with their MVP’s bad knee.

It’s not a good day in Chicago, but Jensen continues eating and then finishes the night like any other with paperwork and a dark drive home.

+++

It’s all over the news, the papers, the internet, and all anyone can talk about. It ranges from disappointment for the end of the Bulls' most promising season in years to speculation of the player’s career. Apparently he’s a free agent next season and the Bulls’ front office could be looking for a change if the MVP’s not back to tip-top shape by the next pre-season.

Six months until then. Six months to recover from a major knee injury isn’t unheard of, but it’s unlikely to be back to 100 percent for a professional athlete. Especially given how intense basketball is on the knees. 

Jensen empathizes, but he doesn’t think any more of it. In fact, he resolutely ignores all the complaints and worry for what this means for the Bulls franchise or the young star’s future. Jensen does well enough that he forgets the matter.

That is until he gets to Athletical around ten to go through his files and prepare for his first patient at eleven. With the last half of his granola bar sticking out from the corner of his mouth, he grabs his folders and walks to the break room, stopping at the doorway to find it filled with his coworkers. 

“What the fuck?” he mumbles just before pulling the bar from his mouth. He winces when he sees Samantha Smith, his supervisor, smirking at him.

“Morning, Jensen.”

“Morning,” he nods, repositioning the folders under his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Who’s got PCL?” Jessica complains from her place right in front of the TV. It’s tuned to Sportscenter, and even on mute, the ESPN ribbon runs with details from last night’s incident and the official statement on the injury. Jensen steps just inside the room and slowly smiles when she glares at him. “You’re such a douche.”

He sticks his granola bar back into the side of his mouth and grabs the stack of bills from her hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You would,” she mumbles, leaning against the table and facing Samantha.

“Now that you’re all paid up,” their supervisor starts, granting Jensen a small smile. “We’ve got a little business to discuss this morning. Chris is going part-time, and we’ve got a few off-site clients coming up, so I’m going to shift the schedules around a bit. We’ll all have to pick up some extra loads.”

The crowd groans and Jensen wants to shrug. He doesn’t exactly love his hours – appointments from eleven in the morning to nine at night with at least 30 minutes to start the day and another to end it with paperwork – but he doubts he’ll be bothered much by this. He has seniority, his patients are always vocal about their satisfaction with treatment, and most changes seem to pass him completely given he already works the latest hours on the schedule.

There’s more grumbling and Jensen watches without much care, but he is a bit amused by everyone getting up in arms for a change they’re not even certain of. He keeps chewing on his snack, down to the very end of the bar, when Samantha appears in front of him.

“Hi,” she says brightly, but he reads something else in her eyes.

He swallows the rest of his bite. “Hi.”

“Are you interested in off-site clients? I know you’ve got the short end of the stick as far as schedules go. Maybe getting out during the day would do you some good.”

“Do I need me some good?” he asks slowly. He’s heard enough grumbling from the supervisor about his coworkers, thankfully missing out on any opinions she might have on him. He does his best to reserve his work gripes for people who aren’t above him, and Samantha’s nothing but kind when she talks to him. Still, he’s not sure what she really thinks of him either way. 

“No, not what I mean,” she explains quickly, nicely. “I’m just asking.” She leans in, covering her mouth, and whispering conspiratorially. “You’re the only one not complaining.”

Jensen nods, chuckles a little, and shifts his files more comfortably. “Well, I just figure I’ll wait to complain ‘til it affects me.”

She laughs along with him then cuts back to the point. “So, are you interested?”

He thinks on it for a few seconds. He’s usually stepping up to help when they’re short-staffed or any of his colleagues needs a second hand or consult. He likes his job and doesn’t mind _too much_ when asked for something extra, but he’s not sure if she’s asking or suggesting. “Do you need people to go?”

“Just asking.” Samantha taps at a notebook she’d been holding at her side. “I’m making a list of those who are available.”

“Yeah, sure, put me on it,” he says with a short nod. 

Danneel pops up over Samantha’s shoulder as Jensen’s name is being written down. “You’ve got me on there, too, right?”

Samantha smiles sweetly, almost too much, and nods at Danneel. “Yes, Harris. I got you down there the first three times you asked.”

Once their supervisor is gone, Danneel grins at Jensen. “She’s the best.”

“God, you’re such an ass-kisser,” Jensen laughs and drops his files to the table to get work.

“And you’re not?” Danneel asks, knocking at the tabletop when he sits. “Always here an hour early and staying an hour late.”

He flips a folder open and motions at the scribbles he’d taken a week ago for his regular Tuesday 11am patient. “When the hell do you get your notes done?”

“I have my ways.” 

“I’ll bet you do,” he returns with a sly look, eliciting a grin from her. “Did you really ask Sam four times to get on the list?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?” he asks, laughing. 

“You do know who she’s talking about right?”

Jensen had a vague notion it’s for the Chicago All Star, but he’s not about to live on assumptions. “Yeah, and?”

Danneel’s eyes widen and her breath catches before she rattles out, “Oh, God, how could you not care? The person who fixes that knee is gonna be golden and set up for life. Can you imagine the word-of-mouth for cleaning up a knee worth that much? My career would be set for professional sports. Not to mention chance to get seats to a game or NBA gear.”

Jensen nods and grants a small smile. He gets it, and can appreciate Danneel’s high – perhaps lofty – career goals. 

She grins as she pats his shoulder, nudging harder when she asks, “You up for beers on Thursday?”

“As always,” he waves her off.

+++

Two Thursdays later, everything changes.

Everyone’s corralled in the break room again and Samantha’s standing in the corner, going up on her tiptoes to turn the TV off. She grins when everyone moans that Sportcenter’s gone. It’s the first time in weeks that Jensen hasn’t had to see it at work, and he’s grateful.

Until Samantha claps her hands and breaks the din of complaint. “I’m sure you all heard about our newest client. So I’ll just go quick and save you all the speculation. Jared Padalecki has signed on for home service and Jensen’s been assigned.”

The room erupts into anger and jealousy, a few loud cries of _Why not **me**?_ But mostly a lot of _Why him?_

“No kidding,” Jensen says on a sudden outburst. He can’t believe he says it or that everyone stops to look at him. He takes in the room and finds coworkers eying him bitterly and some close friends frowning with their own disappointment. “Why me?”

“Yeah,” Jessica asks. She crosses her arms tightly and glares at him then eases up a bit when she turns to Samantha. “Why _Jensen_?”

“Well, you don’t have to say it like that,” Jensen argues.

Samantha clears her throat and stands firm, hands on her hips. “Chris is already cutting hours. Justin’s unable to travel, Tom and Mike are likely to rob the man of all his jerseys and awards, and the rest of you are far too excited about nabbing a husband.”

Jensen tsks and tosses a hand out. “So, because I’m _not_ excited about it, you’re making me do this?”

Tipping her head Samantha gives him a long look, assessing even. “You said you were interested in off-site work.”

“That’s before I knew who it was.”

As soon as he’s said it, he realizes it’s the wrong thing to say. Everyone in the room is ready to throw down for the chance and he’s the last one to give two shits about the case. He’s well aware that Jared Padalecki is one of the NBA’s hottest stars and how Chicago fell over itself when he was signed two years ago. This last season shoved the Bulls into the limelight with the one-two punch of Rose and Padalecki, and it’s like the town is dusting off a shelf for all the Championship trophies to come. But still, Jensen doesn’t care.

The room clears without anyone saying much more, friends and coworkers – a few kind enemies – alike giving him strange looks. Samantha approaches him with a soft hand on his shoulder. “Just, go out there for an assessment and see what happens. I really don’t want to send one of the girls out there to seduce him.”

“This is so fucked up,” he mumbles, not even realizing it until her eyes widen. After a long breath and reconsidering the fact that he got into physical therapy to _help people_, he shrugs off his attitude and nods. “Alright. But what about my other patients?”

“Like I said before. Schedules are being rearranged.”

Another sigh and he tosses his hand out. “Then I guess I’ve got nothing else to complain about, huh?”

Samantha smiles warmly. “You don’t often, do you?”

+++

“This is bull shit,” Jensen mutters as Chris sets four bottles of beer at their table.

Danneel elbows him in side, Kristen gets him in the other hip, and Chris gives him a dirty look as he sits down. 

“I would _gladly_ give any of you the spot,” he says with his arms motioning around the table.

“Then why don’t you?” Jessica asks, smacking the tabletop before making a fist. “That could solve all our problems. Rock, paper, scissors, who wants it?”

“Look at it this way,” Chris prompts. His head’s turned towards the screen about forty feet behind Jensen at the far wall. Game Two of NBA Finals is going on, and still Jensen doesn’t bother to watch. “Samantha trusts you.”

A few of the girls break into arguments with him, a slew of _what d’you mean?_ and _**I’m** trustworthy!_ and _You can shove your trust –_

Jensen claps his hands quickly and spreads them out before shouting over them. “God! You guys are giving me a headache.” When they settle down, so does he, dropping his hands to the table and taking a long drink from his bottle. “It’s not like I asked for this.”

Kristen sets her elbow to the table and rests her cheek in her hand. She’s slouching and frowning right at him, looking like a little kid who lost her bike privileges. “I don’t know why you’re so uninterested. He’s got a new girl on his arm every week. I bet you could pick up the leftovers.”

Jessica jumps towards Kristen and they start gossiping over the last supermodel to be seen in Padalecki’s United Center suite. 

Jensen rolls his eyes and looks to Chris. “You believe this shit?”

“I believe Tinkerbelle has a point,” Chris returns with a smirk. When he leans in closer, his voice drops low. “If it were anyone else at this table, it’d be a major point.”

Jensen stares at his friend with his bottle up to his mouth, but not taking it yet. He should really stop drinking with coworkers and letting secrets out. He’s not female, so yeah, he doesn’t give a shit who Padalecki’s seen with. Chris pointing it out isn’t helping things, but Chris isn’t totally wrong. “You’re such an asshole,” he shoots back, but he’s laughing when Chris grins and playfully smacks Jensen’s cheek.

The subject drops and Jensen doesn’t dare bring it up again, seeing how the girls flare up with the topic. But on the way through the parking lot, just before midnight with a soft breeze cooling off the warm June night, Danneel steps up and eyes him. 

“You really don’t wanna do this?”

“Not really,” he chuckles, fiddling with his keys so he can get into his car and drive on home.

“God, Jen,” she sighs as wonder slips into her voice. “It’s Jared Padalecki. Five-time NBA All Star. MVP. Chicago’s hottest athlete. Literally.”

Jensen finally opens the car door and leans against it. “And his knee’s a piece of garbage. What’s your point?”

“You can make him better. You and your magic fingers,” she insists, wiggling her own fingers at him and giggling. She’s had far too many mojitos for a work night. 

He laughs, both at and with her, then nudges her away. “Go home. You’ll need to sleep this one off before tomorrow.”

She seems to stumble for a second, but rights herself, looking far too serious than he wants right now. “Jen, seriously. Think of where you could go after this? Getting that guy back on the court? You’d have offers flying in from any team.”

Jensen shakes his head and forces a laugh, trying to keep it light. “I really don’t care. I’m fine where I am. Who wants to work in pro sports?”

“Me!” she shouts, laughing near hysterically for how she seems to not buy his line. “Anyone else at the clinic? Any _other_ clinic would die for him on their list!” He doesn’t budge and she finally lets it go, crossing a few empty parking spots between her car and his. She keeps turning back to laugh. “You know everyone’s just jealous? You’re one lucky fella!”

Shaking his head, he ignores her words and the small smile that stays in place for the drive home. One thing he considers? He gets to sleep in and avoid the clinic for a few hours. That’s worth enough to give it a try.

+++

The house Jared Padalecki is renting is not quite a mansion, but it’s close. It’s larger than any home Jensen sees in his middle-income suburb, has three levels, a yard larger than any park in his neighborhood, and a tall fence that says more than enough: Someone important lives here and stay the hell away.

Danneel and Chris texted Jensen during his commute, each sharing facts about the place the MVP calls home during the season. A retired couple with old money has been renting the place to Padalecki since he made them an offer that allowed them to live the in Florida year round, instead of just vacationing. It doesn’t come with a staff, but apparently Padalecki has hired himself a maid, because a tall, attractive blonde woman in a black and white uniform opens the door to Jensen. 

The skirt is a quite bit shorter than Jensen would imagine for respectable help. Then again, he’s never hired a maid, so how’s he to know?

She pulls the door completely open to let him in and smirks, cocking her head to the side and her hip to the doorway. “Why hello,” she says with pure, obvious intent.

“Hi,” he says with a short nod. He takes a quick look around the open floor plan and he can’t sense another soul in the house. Maybe he had the day wrong, or maybe his patient’s blowing him off. “I’m here for Jared–”

She chuckles lightly, eyes drifting up the massively wide staircase that turns and vanishes into the east wing. “Well, that’s incredible timing. I just got done.” It’s a long moment for her eyes to drag across Jensen’s body. 

Jensen wants to turn away from the look, but he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do here. He knows it’s inappropriate – and it’s definitely unwanted – but these people have money, and he’s never done off-site visits before. He’ll deal it for a few minutes if he must. 

“And what’re you supposed to be?” she asks. 

“Jensen Ackles,” he answers. He nudges the athletic bag he’s got slung across his shoulders and resting at his hip. “I’m the physical therapist.”

She laughs, then releases a low sigh. “Oh, how timely. That’s real rich.” With that troublesome smirk back in place, she pulls her hair up to a messy bun and ties it with a black rubber band from around her wrist. “Well, I’m sure he’ll love it. And your uniform. Very dedicated.”

He glances down to his red _Athletical_ polo tucked into black khakis. He’s about to explain it’s all standard uniform, on or off site, but he doesn’t want to waste more time under her stare, now that she’s biting into her lower lip and more obvious than before. “Yeah, alright,” he says firmly then points up the staircase. “Is he up there?”

“Oh, yeah,” she chuckles. “I doubt he’s moving for a while. I think I wore him out but good.”

Trying in earnest to not roll his eyes, not wanting to sully his first impression with anyone in this house, he bites his tongue and points again. “Up and to the left, and then?”

She wets her lips even as she steps out to the front stoop. “Last bedroom, you can’t miss it.” She waves as she takes the few stairs to the circle drive. “Have fun, Jensen Ackles, Physical Therapist.”

He shuts the door before she can say more. After a long breath and an even longer look through the spacious foyer covered in cream floor tiles and gold-framed art, Jensen forces himself up the stairs, to the left, and all the way down the hallway. He passes five rooms on the way, and this is only half the house. At the very least, he’s seen how the other half lives, and it’s _very well_. 

His footsteps are heavy on the waxed wood flooring, and as he nears the last bedroom, he hears a low laugh from behind the cracked door.

“You comin’ back for more?”

Jensen stalls outside the room, takes another deep breath, and clears his throat as he knocks at the door frame. Hitting the door makes it crack open wider and Jensen peeks inside to see the NBA All-Star still in bed, bare-chested and likely completely naked give how the sheets don’t cover much of his midsection. “Mr. Padalecki?”

“I already paid Katie.”

“No, I’m not – Mr. Padalecki, can I come in?”

There’s silence for a bit longer than Jensen expects, so he glances inside again and he sees Padalecki pulling the sheet to cover more of his lap and look up. The guy’s face opens in surprise, then something more akin to how Jensen had been greeted at the front door. “Oh, well, hello.”

“Hi there,” is his short reply. He’s, a bit resentful of being hit on twice now when he’s on the clock. “The maid let me in? I can wait downstairs ‘til you’re ready.”

“No, no, come in,” Padalecki insists with a crooked smile and his fingers flicking in the air. “I didn’t realize there was a two-for-one special or whatever.”

Jensen goes speechless, recalling all the gossip people spread at work about all the girls this guy sleeps with and the lucky ones who hang on his arm more than once. Being hit on by this alpha male is surprising and frankly, as a professional, quite insulting. “Mr. Padalecki,” Jensen says in the sternest voice possible. 

“Jared,” he replies easily, that same lopsided smile in place.

Jensen pushes the door fully open and clears his throat, sounding more angry than nervous. It’s fitting he figures, because that’s sort of how he’s feeling. “I’m your physical therapist.”

Jared tips his head and his eyes narrow as he takes in all of Jensen. “It’s kind of a shitty costume.”

“Excuse me?”

“No scrubs?”

Jensen tugs at the shoulder of his shirt to display the full logo near his left shoulder. “I’m from Athletical.”

Jared mumbles the words back then flushes and chuckles to himself, looking down for a second. “I have an appointment,” he says, as if reminding himself. “It’s two o’clock, ain’t it?”

Nodding, Jensen crosses his arms. “Two-ten now, but yeah. You have an appointment.”

“Should we just … do it right here?” Jared asks. He’s back to smirking as his hands rest low on his hips, nudging the sheet a little lower. “I’m not exactly mobile you know?”

Jensen clears his throat and takes in the room, logging the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sprawling back lawn. The sunlight streams in and brightens the large bedroom, but Jensen’s mood is dark with his new client’s behavior. He doesn’t have patience for this. It happens at work, sure. People hit on him and flirt and try to insist on prolonged treatment just so he’ll work with them more. But he’s not about to take it from some spoiled, rich athlete who likely never hears no. 

“These appointments do happen with clothes,” Jensen says tightly.

“That’s fine. You can keep yours on.”

Jesus, Jensen knew this was a horrible idea. And he says so with a rough cough as he walks right out of the room. “Alright, I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” Jared calls out, but Jensen keeps walking.

“They’ll send someone else!” Jensen yells back. 

“No! Okay! I’m sorry!” Jensen’s right at the top of the stairs when Jared wails, “I’m fucking sorry, c’mon!”

He stops and bites at the corner of his mouth, so wanting to leave the desperation in Jared’s voice is surprising and pathetic, and truthfully, it’s something Jensen has gotten to know well throughout his career, and even before that. There’s a long moment of Jensen just standing there with one foot hovering over the first step down and his hand clenched around the railing. He so wants to bolt and let Danneel or Jessica deal with this. They’d love it, even while he loathes it and wants to be hundreds of miles away. But then Jared’s voice calls out again.

“Are you still there?”

Jensen wishes he wasn’t.

“You are, aren’t you? Okay, if you’re still there and you can hear me, I promise I’ll behave. And put on pants. Well, shorts, so you’ll have to deal with my legs. They’re very nice legs, though, so I don’t know if you’ll have a problem with that.”

Unfortunately, Jensen chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “You shredded your knee. I’m not so sure you can claim good legs anymore.”

“So you know that I’ve got good legs, huh?” When Jensen leans back to look down the hallway, he can see Jared still in bed, hunched over to the side so he can spot Jensen as well. “See, I knew you were still there.”

Jensen scrubs his hand over his face and keeps it over his mouth so he won’t say anything stupid. Or rude. 

“They said you were the best,” Jared persists. “I asked for the best, and you’re here. You really gonna leave me hanging? Leave your city hanging with a forward and his shitty knee?”

“Do you have shorts on yet?” Jensen asks, keeping his eyes away from the bedroom. 

“Are you coming back in here?” Jared asks, the playful tone slipping back into more. 

“Only if you’re clothed.”

“I’ve got a sheet.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing this,” Jensen says, taking the stairs quickly.

“Okay, okay!” Jared shouts. “I’m putting shorts on.” Then he grumbles, “Christ, you’re a tight ass.”

Jensen waits until he hears Jared shuffling around and enough painful complaining to figure Jared’s gotten himself into something decent, and he heads back into the bedroom. He is hesitant, however, at the doorway, creeping around the side of the door when the bed is empty. He finds Jared in a pair of black netted shorts and standing at the side of the bed with little help from a cane. 

Jensen yanks his bag over his shoulder and tosses it down, swearing under his breath as he crosses the room. With firm hands under Jared’s arms, he pushes up to keep Jared steady and lessen some of the weight on the bad knee. 

“Is this all it takes to get close to you, doc?” Jared asks lightly, hand slipping over Jensen’s side and close to his ass. 

Jensen shifts to the side and bats Jared’s hand away from him. “I’m not a doctor. And you shouldn’t even be _attempting_ to walk yet,” Jensen insists. He steps forward to lead Jared back to the bed then glares at him as he sits at the edge and lets his knee bend comfortably, hand rubbing over it. At the sight of Jared’s face twisting and barely hiding the pain, Jensen sighs and drops to one knee. He’s sure Jared’s knee is burning through the sharp pain; he saw the MRIs and this is worse than a typical PCL tear. There’s a reason Jared’s unable to stay on two feet right now.

“Okay,” Jensen says slowly. “When you’re ready, I’d like to assess your knee.”

Jared sucks his lips into his mouth and takes a breath so deep, his chest puffs out even with his chin tucked down. 

Slowly, Jared’s hand falls away from his knee and Jensen carefully moves closer, pressing his thumb around the two joints of the knee, feeling for swelling and muscle twitches when Jensen’s movements are too much for Jared to stay still. Jensen slips a hand under Jared’s knee and softly holds the side of it with his other, looking up hesitantly. “Breath in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

“Are you my Lamaze coach now?” Jared asks with surprising bite to his words.

Jensen shakes his head, smiling a little. Maybe he’s a little excited to inflict a bit of pain on Jared, after all he’s had to put up with so far. “I’m gonna check your range of motion.”

“Trust me, I have none.”

Slowly, Jensen moves the hand under Jared’s knee to cup his calf and lifts. “You’ve been following your immediate treatments?” he asks, satisfied when Jared nods. With his fingers pressed into Jared’s knee, Jensen feels for the shift of muscles and tendons as he carefully moves the leg a few inches up and down, all while speaking gently. “You’re keeping it immobile?” 

“Mostly,” Jared mumbles then winces and his knee tenses under Jensen’s hands. 

He continues on with his movements, trying to keep Jared focused on his questions. “Did they give you a walker?” 

“Yeah, it’s real sexy.”

“Hence the cane?”

“It’s a li’l more respectable.”

Jensen shifts to the side and starts pushing on Jared’s shin, still assessing the pressure in Jared’s knee and keeping an eye on how the muscles in Jared’s thigh compensate for the pain. “I bet your maid really likes it.” Jensen rises, but keeps his hold around Jared’s knee and nods at him. “Shift back on the bed, on your back.”

Jared slides back on the mattress, keeping his right leg in Jensen’s hold and drops to his back. “I can’t walk, ya know?” he sighs.

“The fact that I had to catch you before you hit the floor kinda clued me in.” Jensen keeps one hand under Jared’s knee and carefully leads his leg down, watching for the moment Jared can’t handle the pressure in his joints. “Or the fact that I’m even here.” 

He keeps staring at the ceiling and now his voice drops low in complaint. “I can’t exactly go out and meet people.”

“So, she makes house calls.” 

Jared winks and rubs his foot on his good leg against Jensen’s thigh. “She’s very thorough.”

Jensen moves as far from the touch as he can while still testing Jared’s knee. “I don’t need to hear about her cleaning techniques.”

“Katie’s not my maid.”

Glancing up, Jensen smarts off, “Yeah, I got that.”

“_Ahh!_” he flinches. Then he curls his lips more playfully. “If you wanna get me twisted up, you just gotta ask.” Jensen remains quiet and keeps working, even as Jared says, “This is more foreplay than I’m used to, doc.”

“I’m not a doctor,” he reminds Jared.

“Is there something better I can call you?”

“Jensen.”

“That’s no fun,” he playfully pouts. “If we’re gonna be spending all this time together, you’ve gotta loosen up, ya know?”

Jensen lowers Jared’s leg for a few seconds before he tries gauging Jared’s muscles again. “You’ve got a girl on speed dial, but you’re hitting on your physical therapist?”

“Maybe I like that you’re a tight ass.”

When he moves a little fast and Jared hisses, Jensen does his best not to grin.

“Do you really need to do this?” Jared asks as he tries to pull his leg from Jensen’s hands

Jensen leans with it, keeping the leg supported. “Do you really need to walk again?”

Jared looks up at Jensen and there’s something burning around the edges of his glare that starts to even out. His eyes soften and he bites into his lower lip, only barely appearing angry with his tongue pushing inside his mouth, down towards his jaw. Jensen knows that feeling, has seen it a hundred times in his patients and even in his own mirror. Samantha has told him it’s why he’s so good with the ones who are bitter over their injuries, pissed off at seasons and dreams cut short. Because he knows how it goes. 

Jensen rubs with a bit of comfort over the knee and gets back to his assessment. “Just a few more minutes. I’m trying to find the extent of the injury and how much you’ve healed so far.”

“The MRIs could tell you that,” Jared grumbles, but he doesn’t flinch away as Jensen lifts his leg again.

“It doesn’t tell me levels of pain, just the size of the tear.”

Jared sucks in a breath and releases it on a short, angry noise. “Matt said it was just a sprain.”

“Who’s Matt?” he asks, not caring so much as wanting to keep Jared distracted through the pain.

He sets his hands on his stomach, but Jensen can see how he pushes them down, as if trying to focus more on that pressure than whatever he’s feeling in his knee. “My agent. He said it was a sprain and I’d be back in business in a few weeks.”

Jensen doesn’t respond, because he absolutely knows that’s a lie.

“What? I’m gonna be fine, right?” Jared suddenly clamps his hand around Jensen’s wrist to get his attention. “It’s just a sprain or something, right?”

He’s not up for delivering bad news, but he’s also never been one for dishonesty in treatment. As he straightens Jared’s leg as much as possible, as slowly as he can, he lightly shakes his head. “You’ve got a strain here. It’s gonna take some time to heal and then retrain the muscle.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Sprain is like a pulled muscle,” he answers vaguely.

“And?”

Jensen eyes Jared for a few seconds then concentrates on how he’s shifting Jared’s knee. “You strained your PCL. It’s a tear in the ligament.”

“PCL? You sure?”

“I won a hundred on it,” he jokes. “So, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, _pretty sure_, okay,” Jared mocks, flinging Jensen’s hand off his knee and trying to shift away. He sets his leg down to the bed and sits up with his hands propping him up, looking far beyond pissed. 

Jensen spreads his hands out. “You want help, or what?”

“You won a bet on my knee?” he complains. “What kind of asshole–”

“Look,” Jensen interrupts, “Either your trainer is dyslexic, or your agent is just trying to make you feel good. As a trained professional, I’m gonna go with you needing your ego stroked.”

Jared tips his head, eyes narrowing as he stares at Jensen. “So you’re all kinds of asshole, huh?”

He laughs to himself and nods as he steps away from the bed. “Yeah, it’s been said.” He moves over to where he’d dropped his bag on the floor and pulls the strap over his shoulder. “I’ll give my notes to whoever’s assigned to your case.”

Rolling to his side and wincing with the swing of his knee, Jared fumbles to lean on his elbow. “What, that’s it? Twenty minutes and you’re done?”

“Anyone else can handle it,” Jensen says quickly, motioning towards him. “You’ll be back on your feet soon.”

“Back on my feet by pre-season?” he asks, a slight hopeful tone creeping in.

Jensen wavers in place. This is his client, albeit one who’s been trouble from the first words out of his mouth. Still, Jared’s a patient, and Jensen’s not up for trampling someone’s career. “It’s not impossible.”

“But?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Well, shit, don’t go easy on me.”

“I’m sure my replacement will,” Jensen says with a firm nod. When Jared doesn’t argue, he steps into the hallway and leaves.

+++

As soon as he’s walking out of the locker room at work, Jessica and Kristen fall into step with him, rattling off questions. _What’s he like?_ and _What was he wearing?_ and _Please tell me he’s single._

He stops near the front desk, prepared to check in for his next appointment, and faces them. “He was buck-ass naked because he just fucked his maid.”

They both lean back from his abrupt statement and furrow their brows. 

“And he cried through the assessment,” he tacks on with a nod, going for downright facetious. He doesn’t really care if it pisses them off – or even sullies their vision of adoration. He’s pissed off from the whole visit and lost all patience in Padalecki’s bedroom. “Like a little girl, tears streaming down his face, and begging for his mom.”

Jessica and Kristen share a look, then their faces drop. “Oh, my God, that’s so–”Jessica says with a slight whine.

“Adorable,” Kristen tacks on, and now they’re both smiling. “He’s a total mama’s boy.” 

“God, a man like that, so hot and muscular and with _feelings_,” Jessica rambles on, biting into her lower lip. 

Jensen rolls his eyes, spins to the desk, and puts his files on the surface as he scopes out the schedule the receptionist swings his way. 

“Jensen?”

“Yeah?” he sighs. When he turns, he sees Samantha standing at the edge of the counter, and he bets she’s been there the whole time. “Yeah, hi, Samantha,” he says quickly, trying to smile for his boss. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How was your visit?”

“It was … it was okay.”

Jensen’s nodding even when she seems to question him with her eyebrows going high. “Jared Padalecki called.”

“Yeah, look,” he starts with a hand out towards her.

“He asked that you not come back next Friday.” 

Jensen nods again and fights for a good excuse for what all went on. He doesn’t want to admit that Jared was fighting to get into his pants, nor does he want to admit that he couldn’t be a professional and do his job in spite of it. But he also isn’t set for whatever walking away from a high-profile patient would say for his work ethic if he _doesn’t_ have his own reasons.

“He wants you there on Monday instead. Apparently he’s concerned about his recovery and wants total attention.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, coughing lightly. 

Samantha smiles and taps his elbow. “You’re the best. And he wants the best.”

Jensen wants to groan, wants to argue and bitch about what he put up with in those twenty minutes, but he has to admit there’s a fair amount of confidence flaring up at his boss reinforcing that he’s damned good at his job. 

“We’re getting a transfer from Barrington to handle your early afternoon workload so you can be there as needed.”

“Yeah, but I –”

“And there’s bit of a raise for it,” she adds with a wink. “Mr. Padalecki insisted on it so he could receive full treatment.”

Jensen runs his hand over his head, feeling so far in it that he can’t see or speak clearly. “Samantha, I don’t think –”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Are you turning down a raise, Jensen?” 

He frowns. “I don’t really want to.”

“But?”

“I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” he says, but it comes out more like a question. He’s really pretty sure it’s a bad idea, but there’s no way to relay to his boss why without putting himself under the microscope for great mockery from his coworkers and possibly outing one of the City’s beloved stars. 

She laughs again, now grinning and excited. “Jared Padalecki is insisting on one of Athletical’s therapists. It’s a _great_ thing. Do you have any idea what this means for our group?”

Jensen manages a smile, but he’s sure it’s rather pathetic. “Less time with me?”

She’s still laughing, patting his arm as she passes and moves on to whatever she’s got planned for the rest of her afternoon. 

He presses the heel of his hand into his eye, _hard_, complaining, “Fuck,” to no one in particular.

Except Danneel appears, hip-checking him off-balance. “So? How’s Chicago’s king?”

“He was great,” Jensen says tightly. He grabs his files off the counter and shoots her a fake, bright smile. 

“Boy, aren’t you excited,” she jokes.

“He’s kind of a dick,” he says before he can take it back.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s entitled and bossy and sleazy.”

She smirks. “As all good athletes are.”

He bites his tongue to not say anything too harsh when Samantha walks behind the counter to grab a few files. “I’m going every day next week. It’s gonna be _awesome_.”

As he walks to his first exam room, he can hear Danneel groaning, “Oh, my God, so jealous.”


	2. Part 2

On Monday, Jensen stands on the front stoop and knocks a few times to no answer. He considers the fact that Jared can’t walk or take the long flight of stairs, but it’s really not Jensen’s fault that Jared hasn’t accounted for the fact that Jensen needs to get into the house. 

He waits another minute before he smiles that he can leave and heads back down the walk. When he’s opening the driver’s side door, his phone rings. He doesn’t know the number, but he recognizes it’s a local area code. “Hello?”

“You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

And shit, that’s Jared. Jensen turns back towards the house and sees the guy in a second-floor window, waving and grinning. Jensen groans in lieu of speaking.

“Head around back and up the deck. I’ll let you in there.”

The call’s dropped and Jared’s gone from the window. Jensen figures he doesn’t have much of a choice after traveling nearly an hour just to show up. It’s a long walk across the grounds, and Jensen has to admit the place is landscaped nicely, grass a bright green and flowers an even brighter rainbow of colors. Out back, there’s a gravel walking path that splits to the house and further back to a basketball court, large stone patio, and a gazebo just off the side. Jensen nearly rolls his eyes with the extravagance of it. But it makes sense, of course. 

He takes the deck stairs two at a time, figuring the sooner he gets the session started, the sooner he can leave. It’s a good plan, and he’s feeling a bit optimistic about it, until Jared yanks the patio door to the side and smirks at him. 

“So, you came back.” 

Jensen nods a little and Jared grins a lot. 

“They always come back.”

Jensen stops in the middle of the deck and takes a deep breath. “Can we lay a few ground rules here? Like, you don’t get up and walk around until you’re fit to?”

Jared leans forward and Jensen realizes he’s using the walker for support, keeping his foot off the ground and knee slightly bent. At least Jared listened to _something_ from their last session. Jared nods and keeps on smirking. “I can try. What else you got?”

“Keep your hands to yourself and the dirty talk to your maid.”

“Well then how’m I to have any fun?”

Jensen sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s physical therapy, not an after party.”

“I bet you’d like some of our after parties,” Jared insists with a sideways look. 

“Mr. Padalecki–”

Jared stands a little straighter, but Jensen can see the twist of his forearm flexors as he puts most of his weight forward; Jensen’s happy to at least see that effort. “Alright, I’ll try to follow your rules if you follow mine.”

Jensen shifts his weight and snorts. “Your rules?”

“Yeah, for starters, it’s Jared. And I’ll give you a key to come and go so long as you don’t share it, obviously. And anything that happens inside this house stays inside this house.”

Jensen laughs again, looking away as he considers that to be a pretty twisted rule. As if he’s opening himself up to more lewd comments and wayward touches so long as they’re indoors. 

“You said it’s not impossible for me to recover and play in October.” For the short amount of time they’ve been around each other, this is a first: Jared looks serious, concerned. “I’m a free agent next year, and if I can’t play, if I’m not around the whole season and back to form, there’s no way they’ll pay to keep me or that I get a say in where I’m shipped off to.” He tips his head, eyes intent on Jensen, and he licks his lips with worry. “If you can get me back for the pre-season, and you keep quiet on how bad my knee is, then I’m fully committed to whatever you say.”

Getting the Bulls All-Star back on the court, 100 percent, in four months? Jensen has his reservations, sure, but there’s a fine dare stewing here between them. If there’s ever a thing Jensen hates backing away from it’s a challenge. “Whatever I say?”

Jared bites his bottom lip then pushes it out with a long breath. “Can you do it?” 

Jensen shrugs. “The question is can _you_?”

He nods firmly and slowly says, “I’m fully committed.”

Nodding with Jared, Jensen steps up to him. “Then yeah, I can do it. But first?” Jensen puts his hands over Jared’s as they keep supporting him on the walker. “You gotta stop walking around on it, you idiot.”

Jared chuckles, but there’s a broken quality to it, like he’s nervous and relieved at the same time. “Alright, then what do you suggest?”

Jensen looks up at the house. “You got a hot tub in this palace, right?”

“That’s a very _nice_ suggestion.” Even as Jensen glares at him, Jared goes on with a raised eyebrow. “You can just go with what you got on. Or nothing at all.”

“Jared.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and move out of the way,” Jensen says tightly, rattling the walker a little.

+++

The upside to sticking to this assignment is Jensen gets himself some fresh air as they spend an hour in the hot tub that’s tucked inside the teak gazebo next to the house. He starts showing up in khaki shorts, loses his socks and shoes, and rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders as he joins Jared in the tub and slowly maneuvers the knee in the heated water. 

Jared listens to him when he talks about proper muscle movement and angles for his knee when he’s resting or even when he must move about the house. 

The downside is Jensen finds himself running into girls on the way in or out each day, and he’s sure it’s more awkward for him than it is for them. Different colors and shapes, and Jared’s always grinning for or after them. Katie returns in another wicked outfit. She looks like a waitress in high class-joint that shows a lot of skin. She still grins and calls him “Jensen Ackles, Physical Therapist,” like it’s his formal name. 

It’s not awful to witness Jared’s revolving door. But it _is_ fairly uncomfortable, especially when Jared continues to drop innuendos at every turn.

Jensen’s only response, “You better not be fucking up your knee more.”

Jared smirks at him. “I’m fucking something. You wanna hear about it?”

+++

His coworkers are still all over him for gossip. He makes up the most ridiculous stories, like that Jared has a circus on the non-existent fourth floor of the house with his very own female lion tamer that works Jared over when the animals aren’t enough for her. It’s not too far from the truth, though, given Katie’s costumes.

Samantha overhears a few of his stories and shakes her head, fully embarrassing him with her judgmental looks. But she also laughs it off and constantly checks on how treatments are going. 

He assures her they’re getting there and he’s committed. He says they both are.

For all the torture he accepts dealing with Jared, he’s certain he should be committed to a mental hospital. They both should.

+++

Another Monday and Jared winces to a quick twitch of his knee. He reaches for Jensen’s calf and first squeezes through the pain, then tries to massage it, slow and easy, as if Jensen wouldn’t figure out what he was doing. Jensen’s tempted to yank on the guy’s leg and put him in misery, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

Tuesday, Jared flicks fingers at the surface of the water as Jensen stands before him and leans down to flex Jared’s knee out. Jared _accidentally_ gets an incredible amount of water on Jensen’s shorts and _sadly_ smiles. “Man, that’s a lot of water. Should probably lose your shorts.” Jensen only rolls his eyes and keeps working. 

On Wednesday, Jensen massages Jared’s tensors, focusing on the thigh muscles that must be tightening up from so little use after so much pressure put on them while playing ball. Jared groans and murmurs more than is really appropriate, and Jensen miraculously ignores it. Or at least, he lets the moment pass.

By Thursday, nearly three weeks in, there’s some progress when Jared’s wincing is kept to a minimum and angles that used to make him whine can be made with only moderate grunts. 

“You know,” Jared says through gritted teeth. “I’m not sure I’m getting my money’s worth.”

“How so?” Jensen says, distracted by the turn of Jared’s knee when he tests the mobility. 

“You come around for an hour, but half of that is spent trying to get me from the house to the tub and back.”

Jensen steps to the side and lifts Jared’s leg up with a hand under his thigh and the other at his calf. He brings it up to the water level and slowly bends it down. “It’s not my fault you’re an invalid.”

Jared’s face twists with the new angle, and his voice wavers when he says, “I get why I need hot water, but can’t we do this inside?”

He pats at Jared’s thigh then squeezes lightly. “Ease up here.”

Following Jensen’s orders, Jared shifts in his seat and takes a sharp breath. “I mean, I got a huge bathroom, Jacuzzi tub. There’s plenty of room for us in there.”

Without a second of thought, Jensen drops Jared’s leg and sweeps the surface, soaking Jared. He’s breathing heavy and pissed off, far beyond tired of all the advances, and he’s ready to jump out of the tub and quit, no matter the consequences of telling Samantha the real reasons. 

Jared blinks and spits water back into the tub then licks over his lips as he stares at Jensen with hardly any emotion on his face. “Well,” he says plainly.

Sticking his finger in Jared’s face, Jensen lets it out. “I’m so fucking tired of this. You said you were serious and on board. You agreed, no more talking or touching or any bull shit if I could help you.”

“I just meant we could do this inside.”

“What?” Jensen harps.

“In my tub, do this, just the way you do it out here. Then we wouldn’t waste time crawling in and out of the house.”

After an uncomfortable silence, Jensen chances, “So, you weren’t …”

“Hitting on you?” Jared supplies. “No, I wasn’t.” He runs one hand down his face to clear water and the other over his hair, pulling it away from his forehead before he shakes his head back. He sighs when he looks back at Jensen. “I’m getting a little tired of being rejected.” 

Something pitiful washes over Jensen and he’s about ready to release a tiny _Oh_. He swallows it down in favor of the satisfaction for finally cutting into Jared. Even if it was badly timed, at least he finally said it.

Jared spreads his arms over the side of the hot tub and shrugs with another sigh. “So, we gonna finish up here or are you running off again?”

Jensen crouches down and pulls Jared’s leg back up. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jared allows with a nod. 

He keeps his eyes on his hands manipulating Jared’s knee to bend down. “For yelling at you. And the water.”

Jared lightly laughs and taps at the top of the tub. “I’m not used to it, but I’m sure I deserve it.”

Still focusing on the way Jared’s leg twists underwater, Jensen dares to ask, as level as possible, “You’ve got a different girl here every day, why do you keep saying shit to me?”

There’s no answer for so long, Jensen figures it’s it an untouchable subject. He’s fine with that; he’d rather not attempt to understand his patient. He’d like to go on for the next few months, get Jared back in shape, and walk away with the pride and reputation that he returned Chicago’s son to its waiting arms.

“Ask me inside.”

A quick glance up and Jared’s staring intently on his knee, and he’s even pushing back on Jensen’s hands to test the knee himself. “You gonna say more shit inside?” Jensen says.

“Does your vow of secrecy extend to my yard?”

Jared sounds … nervous, and Jensen’s shocked by it. And also terribly curious about this crack in Jared’s armor. “Forget it. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“Does it?” Jared pushes.

Jensen shakes his head and refocuses on the stretches. “Man, say whatever you want. So long as you’re not all over me, I don’t care.”

Jared’s sigh whistles through the tight circle of his lips. “It’s not easy being me,” he says with a flat chuckle.

Looking over the grounds, from the hot tub to the basketball court and the in-ground pool, not to mention the spread of the deck across the entirety of the three-story monster of a home, Jensen shakes his head and barely contains his laughter. 

“Dude, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jensen replies with an angry smile. He’d almost prefer the guy go back to building his own ego and legacy, bragging about his sexual conquests. Humble doesn’t fit Jared.

“I’m not exactly straight,” Jared argues. “Can’t be open about that and be where I’m at.”

Jensen stops moving and watches Jared dodge his look. “Really?” he asks, skeptical and slow. 

“Yeah.”

“So all the women are just for show?”

“Well,” Jared smirks a little. “They get the job done.”

“Right,” Jensen chuckles, still bitter and skeptical. 

“People see me with a new girl all the time, they’re more interested in the player than what I’m really looking for.”

He laughs and shakes his head, getting back to work. “So the big ape doth protest too much?”

Jared laughs, too, and flicks water at Jensen. It’s more in playful retaliation and nowhere near as bad as earlier in the week. 

“All this time, you weren’t just being a dick, but actually hitting on me?” Jensen asks, joking a little. 

“Have you seen you?” Jared laughs again. After a bit of quiet, Jared asks, “Are you gonna freak out now? Go run and tell everyone?”

“No,” he responds slowly. It feels a little uncomfortable really, as if Jared is accusing him – or _expecting_ – a show of unprofessionalism here. 

“Guy could get a lot of money for leaking that info.”

Jared’s voice is sharp, but Jensen’s look is sharper. “Are you looking for someone to? ‘Cause this is a pretty shitty way to be outted.”

“Like you’d really care.”

Trying unbelievably hard to not roll his eyes, Jensen shifts back to focus on the slide of Jared’s knee in his hands, because otherwise he just might swipe Jared with another fistful of water. 

Jared sighs and eases up on the tension in his legs, allowing Jensen to work easily. It’s bad enough, Jensen figures, that Jared has to be vocally challenging, but to also let it bleed into his therapy is a nightmare. “You’re not gonna tell everyone?” he asks quietly.

Jensen lets out an awkward smile and shakes his head. “That’d be a little hypocritical of me.”

“_Oh_,” Jared breaths, shifting to sit straighter. 

He stands and wipes his hands on the sides of his shorts. “You’re good.”

“Jensen, look,” Jared starts, but Jensen waves him off.

“It’s not a big deal.” Something warms Jensen and he feels comfortable enough to talk easy. He’s not sure why, but he figures Jared’s got enough going on to not worry about the orientation of his physical therapist or bother telling anyone about it. “I don’t talk about me with anyone, and I won’t be telling anyone about you. We’ll just chalk it up to a nice, little understanding, alright?”

“Really?”

The kicker is that Jared seems honestly hopeful right here, like he wants someone to know his secret and keep it to themselves. Like he’s been dying for someone to hear it and understand it all. Jensen gets it, and he’s happy to accept the subtle, low-key version of Jared that’s peeking through. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he says with another simple wave. “Just, stop being so fucking gross about it, alright?” he asks, playfully offended. 

Jared’s eyes widen and he slowly puts his hand out to Jensen. “Deal.”

+++

By the time Jensen shows up for the regular Thursday drink night, his friends and coworkers have already commandeered a corner with three tables pulled together, and not a single chair for him. 

Kristen and Jessica shoot him a look he can’t decipher as they huddle closer together and talk. A handful of others he doesn’t bother interacting with very often are zipping through video trivia. Chris, Danneel, and Justin are in a heated debate over the seriousness of various shoulder injuries. This scene isn’t all that unfamiliar.

Jensen heads to the bar for a beer and, as he waits for service, he drops onto a stool and drums his fingers on the counter. He had a full shift at the clinic, one patient right after another and enough new notations to make his hand cramp. He was so busy he’d been able to put any thoughts at bay about what happened at Jared’s house this morning. Yet, the moment he got into his car, done with his workday, everything slammed right into the front of his brain.

Jared – Chicago’s newest crowned prince, alpha male of the NBA, and Jensen’s newest client who seems to have himself the healthiest libido in the world – is gay, and has now confirmed that he’d rather be fucking his physical therapist than the long line of women coming through his home.

What a way to mess with a guy’s head. 

Jensen sits a while, still waiting, and normally he wouldn’t mind given the number of filled tables in the place. Except his mind now stumbles down a terrifying road that begins to recount the time he’s spent with Jared. That first day in Jared’s bedroom with the sheets down low to show off the spread of Jared’s broad, tan chest and the dip of his hipbones. The times in the hot tub when Jared’s soaked from the shoulders down, water glistening on his skin under the bright sun, damp hair tucked behind his ears. Any slip of the tongue – both intended and not – that make Jared smirk and grin with dimples popping in his cheeks.

He pushes his elbow onto the bar and buries his face in one hand, trying to ignore the images that make his stomach twist and his nerves wake up. He never thought Jared was a bad-looking guy by any means and, as a physical therapist, he’s able to truly appreciate the physical form of an athlete. But dealing with Jared, his extreme perversion and ,wayward hands had been enough to turn Jensen off.

Now … Jensen recalls the moment Jared shared his secret and how Jensen vowed to not tell a soul. Jared put his hand out, Jensen nodded, and they shook on it. And there is no way in hell Jensen felt anything from the simple press of Jared’s palm to his or the honest way Jared was smiling at him. 

Fuck.

“Heyo!” Danneel says loudly as she pushes into Jensen’s side.

He flinches away in surprise then settles on the stool again, but not without a scowl in her direction.

She smirks and elbows him. “How’s the stud doin’?” 

“What? He’s not my stud,” Jensen insists.

“He who?” she asks, eyeing him oddly.

“No one.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“What’re _you_ talking about?” he asks as he turns and waves at the bartender. Anything to distract him from Jared, or the potential to discuss such things.

Her eyebrows go high as she sighs, “_Ohh_-kay,” and puts her empty bottle to the bar top. “So, you’re crazy as ever, huh?”

He finally gets the bartender’s attention, points at Danneel’s bottle, and signals for two more. They both follow the track of the bartender at the cooler and heading towards them, and Jensen asks as level as possible, “What stud’re you asking about?”

“You,” she laughs, elbowing him again. “Who’d you think I meant?”

“No one. I was just thinking about work.” There’s a flash of Jared damp in the hot tub, lips turned painfully with Jensen’s stretches, but the sight is a bit tantalizing … “At the clinic,” Jensen specifies as she raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Patients from this evening.” He busies himself by paying for their beers then taking a healthy sip of his.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“Did something happen at work?” she asks slowly.

“Like what?” he asks airily. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and drinks from her bottle then eyes him again. “Things going okay with Padalecki?”

“Of course.” He laughs, then ignores how it sounds forced. To distract himself, he takes an even longer drink. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Danneel turns against the bar, watching him intently. “Because you once said he was a dick and you dreaded having to go over there every day.” 

Jensen stays quiet, well aware it’s true. He hates that she’s remembered and is holding him to it now.

“And today’s the first day you’re not looking like you want to hang yourself or quit. Or both.”

“So because I’m in a good mood, something must be wrong?”

She laughs and punches his shoulder. “This is you in a good mood?” 

“God,” he groans and nudges her away. “Leave me alone.”

“That sounds more like you,” she replies. 

Thankfully, she does move away and return to the table. Bad news is she and Chris keep talking and eying him as he finishes his beer. He’s determined to relax before he joins them.

But given the odd smirks Chris aims at him and the way Danneel gives him sideways glances, he bails before they have a chance to ask him what the hell’s wrong with him. He has no clue what to tell himself.

+++

Jensen’s grateful that Jared’s finally ready for full muscle movement. This means no more time in swim trunks or the hot tub, and means he’s carrying his tri-fold table into Jared’s house. 

Jared meets him at the bottom of the stairs, albeit slowly, and smirks as Katie shuffles out the door. She’s plain clothed but caring a pretty full duffle, waving at them with a broad smile and kick to her step. He doesn’t want to guess what sort of get-up she’s got in the bag.

After a moment of watching Katie tromp down to her car, Jensen stares at Jared, but Jared just smiles in return. 

“And what is this?” Jared asks.

No matter how comfortable Jared looks – in training shorts and a snug v-neck tee with freshly showered, barely drying hair making the collar damp – Jensen sticks to the resolution he set for himself this past weekend.

Jared is his client, and that’s it. Jensen’s here to do a job, and when he’s done in two months, Jared will be back on the court and Jensen will be back at the clinic full-time. That’s it.

“Are we up to massages now?” Jared asks. He smirks as he tilts his hips against the banister for support, but damn, it’s a little tempting as well. 

Jensen sets his table to the floor and takes a deep, calming breath. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“What’s the good news?”

“We’re done with the hot tub and–”

“That sounds like bad news, Jensen,” Jared says with a wink.

“You’re ready for some longer sessions,” Jensen finishes.

Jared hops a little when he leans further against the banister. “And what’s the bad news?”

“I have to put up with you for longer sessions,” he replies. It sounds a little like a joke, but Jensen feels a sliver torment for having to actually spend more time here. 

“Then let’s go!” Jared starts limping towards the hallway that leads to his gym, and Jensen groans. 

“You know, now would be a good time for you to actually use that stupid cane.”

“Yeah, I forgot it upstairs.” Jared keeps pushing against the wall with one of his huge hands as he slowly ambles to the last room down the hall. “Figured it out when I was halfway down the stairs, and I doubt you’d be happy with me taking the steps twice.”

“That’s the first good thought you’ve had since I met you.” Jensen smiles, but he ignores the way Jared’s chuckling because it’s annoying how it digs into his chest. 

“Where do you want me?”

He shoots Jared a flat look then gets to propping the double-wide table open and flipping it upright. 

Once Jared’s up on the table, Jensen joins him, wrapping light weights around his ankle and positioning himself alongside. He immediately bends Jared’s knee to his chest, and through Jared’s practiced breathing, Jensen leans on Jared’s shin to force a deeper stretch then pulls it back. “You feeling anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” Jared replies.

Jensen watches Jared’s face. In place of the typical leer, Jared’s staring at his knee and biting into his lip with some pain. Jensen shifts back to stretch Jared’s leg out then pushes it back up to Jared’s chest, slower this time. “Is it too much?”

“I can deal.” 

They pace the stretches for a good ten minutes, switching up positions to get Jared’s knee loose. Jensen’s attention is on Jared’s leg, and he falls into the routine and the easy silence as comfortably as any other patient.

Jared’s breathing becomes more natural and his face loosens up. He tips his head up to an odd angle to watch, and his voice comes out tense. “We’re not moving too fast, right? You’re not gonna bust my knee again?”

Jensen smiles and turns Jared’s knee over his other leg, testing the range of Jared’s muscles. “I won’t bust your knee again.” He brings the leg upright then does it again. “But don’t force it either.”

“You’re the one doing this,” Jared replies, biting again into his lip. “You’re the one who’s gonna screw it up.”

“I won’t screw it up. You have to trust me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you pay me a lot of money to do this.” Jensen sits back and drags Jared’s leg straight with a hand under his knee and one wrapped around his ankle. “Seems pretty stupid to not have a little faith in me.”

“I have faith in you,” he says quite seriously. “It’s more like having no faith in my knee.”

Jensen keeps going with the stretches and shoots Jared an annoyed look. Jared’s insecurity is starting to get annoying. “Try thinking about something else.”

Jared sighs. “Like what?”

“How about your maid?” Jensen asks with a bit of attitude.

Chuckling, Jared adjusts his free leg. “You want me to tell you how that went this morning?”

Jensen licks his lips and purses them, tugging on Jared’s knee with more force than he knows he should. 

With a sharp inhale, Jared awkwardly laughs. “And she’s not my maid anymore. Did you know there’s such a thing as a slutty taxi? It was the longest ride-”

He presses down on Jared’s knee, a valid exercise, but he’s aware it’s more pressure than Jared can likely take right now. 

Jared yelps and shuffles away from the pain and when Jensen eases up, Jared turns his cheek to the table. “Okay, I got it.”

Jensen doesn’t reply and, when Jared doesn’t speak further, Jensen covertly watches Jared stare across the room.

His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “So, why on the table?”

“Where would you rather?” he asks before he can help it. He immediately tenses at Jared’s possible response.

“I don’t know, the floor? Then you wouldn’t have to lug the table around.”

“The table’s staying here, and I’m not up for kneeling on your hard floor all afternoon.”

“You don’t have to stay on your knees – ow!” he winces and pulls away when Jensen twists his knee a little.

“Maybe you should think about something else,” Jensen insists. He shuffles and gets back to turning Jared’s knee in different directions. 

“You’re brutal.” Jared huffs, leaning up a little to stare at his knee as Jensen moves it. “Alright, fine, other topics. What about your other patients?”

“What about them?”

“You have other patients at the clinic.”

Jensen nods and his mind stays on the task of Jared’s knee. “I do.”

“And they’re okay being pushed aside?”

“I’m sure they’re fine. They’re still being treated, just by someone else.”

Jared laughs lightly and puts his head down on the table, eyes up to the ceiling. “So I’m your most important patient?”

Jensen bites the inside of his cheek just so he won’t smart off, or smile. “You’re my highest paying client.”

“Sounds about the same to me.”

There’s still the slight turn to Jared’s tone, but Jensen powers through the session with as little flinching as possible. 

When he leaves, he’s drained beyond belief.

+++

“Why’d you get into physical therapy?” Jared asks the next day. 

Jensen’s pressing Jared’s knee into his chest again and realizes their faces are pretty close. The way Jared’s eyes track Jensen’s movements instead of looking at his face makes Jensen smile and relax as he pulls back with Jared’s leg then does it again. “I wanted to help people,” he replies on reflex. It’s the statement he gives everyone who asks.

“You could’ve been a doctor. Or a nurse. A cop.”

“Why’d you go into basketball?” Jensen asks stupidly, deflecting attention. He’s sure he could read that answer in any _Sports Illustrated_.

“Because I was good at it and I wanted as little school as possible.”

Jensen chuckles and presses forward again with Jared’s shin digging just a little uncomfortably into his chest. “Same here.”

“So, you lack the dedication for a real degree?” Jared jokes.

“I have a masters, I’ll have you know,” Jensen returns playfully, and Jared lights up with a genuine smile. Jensen purposely changes positions to keep working without looking at Jared’s face. 

They keep working through the stretches, transitioning to a few that Jared has to maneuver himself, pulling his knee to his chest with Jensen leading the movement. They’re quiet and moving in repetition, but Jared slows down and then completely stops as he picks his head up and stares across the room.

Jensen looks over his shoulder to the flat screen hanging on the wall, always queued to ESPN. This time, however, it’s not a rundown of the Top 5 sports plays or talking heads bickering over preseason football. It’s a replay of a news conference with men in suits seated at a table, grinning together as the one in the middle fields questions. The ribbon on the bottom details some free agent worth millions.

“Motherfucker,” Jared mumbles, pulling himself up to sit on the table. 

Shifting back, Jensen looks between the TV and Jared. He’s confused by Jared’s scowl and how intently he watches the screen. “What?”

“That’s,” he groans while shoving a hand through the air angrily. “Christ.”

Jensen watches the TV for a few seconds, but has no better clue on what’s going on. “That’s what?”

“Anthony Burton, that’s who it is.”

“And?”

Jared’s face sets hard and his nostrils flare. “And my agent.”

Jensen tries to pay better attention to the screen. Even as the volume’s set pretty low, he can start pulling the pieces together. Apparently, Jared’s agent has just masterminded one of the biggest signings in the NBA, landing Burton $35 million for a move to New York. 

“Shut it off,” Jared instructs.

They’re both on the table, far from the remote or the screen itself, so Jensen makes an odd noise and shrugs. 

“Shut it off! I’m not jumping off this table right now.”

Jensen slowly gets to the floor and grabs the remote from a nearby shelving unit and flicks the TV off. “Everything okay?”

Jared flops back on the table and pivots his hips, stretching his leg out. “Where were we?” he asks tightly. 

Making progress, Jensen thinks. Not just on Jared’s knee, but in actual conversation and concentration until Jared was distracted by the TV. He’s not about to point that out, so he takes a steady breath and puts on his best smile. Nudging Jared’s leg back into position, he murmurs, “We were about here.”

“Right. Thanks.”

+++

“How do you not care?” Jared nearly shrieks. The way he pulls back from Jensen is more in offense than pain, and it’s proof of how shocked he is that Jensen pulling on his leg to bring him back into position isn’t creating an ounce of a reaction.

“I just don’t,” Jensen shrugs, then lightly tugs on Jared’s ankle.

Jared doesn’t budge. He remains up on his elbows, left knee bent up and right stretched between them with his eyes wide enough it could be comical. Except he’s honestly offended. “You live in _Chicago_.”

Quite evenly, Jensen replies, “I live in the suburbs.”

“You live in the Chicago _area_, and you don’t give a shit about our sports?”

“I live in Geneva,” he specifies with the same controlled voice. “And I work in Batavia.”

Some tension leaves Jared’s body, mostly his face, and while he still looks insulted, there’s a trace of something else coming through. “So, you don’t give a shit if I’m back on the court in October.”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t care if I’m back in action and the team pulls itself together.” Jensen’s about to argue, but Jared pulls a deep, whistling breath and goes on, “You couldn’t care less if we win a championship because you hate Chicago sports and basketball and the Bulls. What the fuck are you doing here then?”

Jensen starts to laugh, ready to huff out _God, you’re a child_, but he’s not sure that’s the best way to deal with a frustrated client. Beneath all of today’s bravado and Jared’s eagerness to fling shit on his physical therapist, Jensen has spent most of their session reading how Jared’s eyebrows have been drawn together and he’s been clamping his lips together while twisting his knee away from every stretch. Jared’s in pain and instead of acknowledging it, he’s picking fights.

He sits back on his haunches, lets Jared’s leg go, and takes a deep breath. “You’re my patient,” he says calmly, then dips his head to meet Jared’s eyes with the best of intentions. “I care that you’re back on the court because it says I did my job and I helped someone bounce back from a pretty messed up injury.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jared mumbles, looking away.

Jensen kneels up again and softly presses his fingertips around the edges of Jared’s knee. He feels some push back and sees a muscle in Jared’s thigh twitch as he must be fighting to keep his leg from moving. “Why didn’t you tell me it hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” he says, stiffly.

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen laughs back, purposely mocking both Jared and his own bitchy mumbles from seconds ago. 

Jared barely smiles, quickly looking away with his cheeks beginning to go pink. “Alright, it kinda hurts. A little.”

Jensen keeps assessing the swelling, pushing fingers against the ligaments to feel a bit of give in the inflammation. “For how long?”

“A couple days.”

“Anything specific happen?” he asks awkwardly. He’s afraid Jared’s going to detail some highly complicated set of pulleys and levers he and Katie were using – though he’ll admit he’s been waiting for this kind of thing to happen since Jared’s been up on his feet more often. Maybe it was the brunette Jensen passed in the hall last Wednesday.

“I woke up sore yesterday and it’s been worse this morning.”

Jensen defiantly keeps his head down so he doesn’t have to witness Jared’s response. “And you didn’t do anything … out of the ordinary?” There’s no answer and Jensen looks up to Jared, chuckling awkwardly. “I don’t really wanna hear it any more than you wanna say it, but I have to know what you’ve been doing to your knee. It’s swelling up and you’re obviously in pain.”

“I didn’t do anything. At all,” Jared pushes on. “Like, literally, I did nothing. It hurt yesterday so I told Katie not to come. Same thing today.”

He’s beginning to imagine more of Jared’s crabbiness is related to not getting laid in two days when he’s been getting it daily for Lord knows how long.

Jared thunks his head to the table and takes a long, noisy breath. “How about we call it a day?” he asks rather pathetically.

Jensen’s not about to argue, especially with Jared in this mood, so he pats Jared’s thigh and moves off the table. He unwraps the Velcro weight from Jared’s ankle and packs his bag up. “Make sure you ice it when you’re resting and wear your brace, even to bed.”

“It’s annoying to sleep in,” Jared mumbles.

“I know, but it helps. And do an hour in the hot tub tomorrow before I come.”

“I did thirty this morning.”

Jensen nods and puts more force into his voice. “And tomorrow, do an hour, even two, with all your exercises. It won’t hurt to let it work in the heat.”

Jared sighs and closes his eyes before Jensen can say more, so Jensen leaves.

+++

Jensen knows he’s early, but given how yesterday’s session went, he wants to make sure Jared actually listened to him and put some time in with his exercises. The house is empty and after a long walk through the place, he finds Jared out back in the hot tub.

“How long you been in there?” Jensen asks as he approaches.

Jared flinches at Jensen’s voice, then laughs to himself. “God, you could kill a man sneaking up behind him.”

Jensen toes off his shoes and socks, rolls his pants up to his knees, and steps up and over the side of the tub, sitting on the top edge. “How’s it feel?”

“Better,” he says, but it sounds like a question. “I’ve been out here nearly two hours and I’m starting to prune, but I didn’t want you to accuse me of not following through.”

There’s a definite show of self-deprecation that’s foreign coming from Jared. Jensen taps his foot at Jared’s hip for attention. “Everything okay?”

“It’s not getting better is it?”

“Of course it is,” Jensen says immediately.

Jared frowns and looks away, face now shrouded in anger. “It’s hurting again and I’m back to the hot tub after just a week.”

“You’re up and walking-”

“Slowly,” Jared laughs bitterly.

“You’re _up and walking_,” he repeats. “It’s been a little over a month and you’re on your feet. Another few weeks, you’ll be on the treadmill, and after that, you’ll be close.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Jensen sighs because Jared’s a petulant child right now and he has no patience for it. “I thought you were dedicated to this?”

“I am,” he mumbles.

“Sure doesn’t sound like it. And now this attitude? I’m starting to question what you’re really getting out of this, aside from abusing me.”

Jared bites his lip and drums his fingers along the rim of the tub. One long arm almost reaches Jensen’s side, and somehow, neither of them seems to care. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Jensen snorts lightly, because Jared’s been shitty for a few days now. 

“Matt won’t return my calls,” Jared grumbles. He’s nearly seething if Jensen looks closely. Jared sighs and nods to himself. “Sends me texts saying he can’t wait ‘til I’m on the mend. Meanwhile, he’s running the circuit with Anthony fucking Burton.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jensen murmurs. At the moment, Burton’s deal is the hottest news buzzing through the clinic. He’s felt odd for the past few days knowing how pissed Jared is about it while his coworkers are excited about the prospect.

Jared watches him, then eases up. “I was a dick about the sports thing. But I really care about this. My knee and my career and this city. I don’t wanna burn out because I twisted my knee and be known for ruining the best team this city’s seen.”

Jensen laughs, shocked and insulted. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Okay, you’re my patient and you pay me and all, but fuck you and your ‘best team this city’s seen’ bull shit. I lived through the eighties and nineties and no one – _no one_ – is gonna replace 72-10.”

Jared is the one to laugh now, bright and taunting. “I knew it! You’re such a dirty liar saying you don’t care about sports.”

Jensen smacks Jared’s shoulder and shakes his head, chuckling, “You can’t live in Chicago and not give a shit about Michael Jordan.”

“But you don’t give a shit about it now.”

Rolling his shoulders into a stilted shrug, Jensen slowly, stupidly explains, “It’s just not the same as it was.” Jared’s nodding, but Jensen can read the awkwardness of the conversation. “I was a kid with nothing but the Bulls to watch, and you threw up three pointers like Kerr and Paxon, and a half dozen others dunked like Jordan and Pippen, or whoever. And then it all fell apart, and I-”

“You’re bitter?”

Jensen looks at Jared; he’s smirking at Jensen, but Jensen can feel the challenge. He also feels the rise of memories from long ago that contribute to his opinions. “Yeah, I am,” he admits. 

“So you’re bitter about the Bulls ending their championship run and because of that you’re always shooting me down and keeping me at arm’s length?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m shooting you down because you’re kind of disgusting.”

“Am not,” Jared insists. “You’ve only seen me at my worst.”

“And you’re not really my type,” Jensen says, just so he doesn’t have to consider what Jared at his best would really be.

“Multi-millionaire, NBA All Star is everyone’s type.”

“Stubborn, spoiled kid is more like it.”

Jared splashes water at Jensen’s leg, soaking his pants and laughing. “You’re an asshole.”

Jensen kicks water up at Jared’s face, proudly grinning when Jared sputters and wipes down his face in rush. 

It only takes a few seconds for Jared to respond and next Jensen knows, they’re slapping water at each other. He feels it seep through his clothes and dampen his skin and his neck, getting up in his hair, but he keeps swinging right back tit for tat with Jared. Until Jared launches himself up and curls an arm around Jensen’s neck, tugging him down towards the surface and slushing water right in his face. It’s comical and Jensen’s laughing, he really is, but in between splashes, he sees Jared bending his bad knee back and hopping on his good leg. 

Jensen grabs Jared’s arms and wrenches one away as he shouts to stop. Jared’s fighting him back, but the moment Jensen winds Jared’s arm behind his back, Jared yelps and twists away. Jensen lets him, backing way as well and pulling his hand down his face to clear water from his eyes. 

As Jared scrambles back to sit, Jensen leans forward to support his knee with another hand under Jared’s arm. “This is why you shouldn’t be screwing around.”

Jared grunts as he settles comfortably. “Literally, too, huh?”

Jensen chuckles lightly and pulls Jared’s leg up, massaging Jared’s vastus muscles, kneading into his thigh to loosen up the tension. “Sorry to say, but yeah.”

“We still have to work on the table, don’t we?”

He works his hands down over Jared’s knee, thumbing along the joints and pressing his fingers into the top of the calf. “Yeah, but I’ll go easy on you.”

“That’ll be a nice change of pace.”

Jensen smiles and straightens Jared’s leg, easily bending it back and forth like it should move at this point in therapy. “You’re doing good, Jared. Don’t let a little pain get to you. It’s part of the process.”

After a sharp inhale, Jared asks, “No pain, no gain?”

“Cliché, but yeah. A little bit.” Jensen moves back to Jared’s vastuses, kneading with the pads of his thumbs and sliding down to Jared’s knee again.

Jared breaths deep again and pushes his back against the tub. “That feels good.”

Jensen smoothes the heel of one hand over the narrow part of Jared’s thigh then grips around the muscle and rubs into it. “I’m not all bad.”

“No, you’re not. You’re good at this.”

He glances up and catches Jared’s easy face, the way he’s just looking at Jensen without anything but respect and maybe wonder. Jensen doesn’t bother questioning it, or how it makes his chest tight and his fingers fumble as he continues working Jared’s leg.

+++

“So how’s megastar training going?” Chris asks as he puts a few bottles of beer down to the table.

Jensen grabs one and sips instantly, purposely dragging out time to think up the best answer. He fishes for one that won’t tell of Jared’s typical demeanor, how he goes between entitled come-ons and sullen worry about the state of his knee. Jensen has the attention of his coworkers, no matter which Cubs reliever is making an appearance or how close the Sox are to a ninth-inning comeback on the big screens.

“Yeah, how’re his muscles?” Kristen asks with a grin.

“It’s going good,” he says to Chris. “And they’re healing,” he says to Kristen. “He’ll be running suicides in no time.”

“It’s good?” Danneel asks, leaning across the table. She’s watching him with her head tipped to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Really?”

Jensen chuckles and nods, doing his best to stay cool. “Yeah, it’s moving along fine. He’s totally dedicated.”

“Who’s he seeing?” Jessica asks excitedly.

He thinks about the fact that Jared said he’d stopped having Katie visit. Not to mention that none of the girls he’s ever encountered at Jared’s house seem like they’re there to date. “No one, I guess?”

Jessica tsks. “You guess? He doesn’t talk about it?”

“I’m his physical therapist, why would he tell me?” Jensen figures it’s a good enough line considering it _should_ be true. 

“You don’t see anything around the house?” Kristen asks. “Or hear who he talks to?”

“Uh, no,” he drags out. “We work on his leg and I come back the clinic.” He shares a look with Danneel and can see Chris watching him from the corner of his eye. He ignores them both and laughs as he leans back. “Seriously? Is this all we’re gonna talk about?”

Jessica sighs and drops miserably into her seat. “You barely talk about it as it is. It’s been over a month, you’ve got to have some good gossip.”

“I would assume this is why Sam didn’t choose you,” he says into the lip of his bottle before drinking. 

Another sigh and Jessica gets up and corrals a handful of coworkers into a round of darts. Jensen watches them go, then finds Chris and Danneel still staring at him. “What?”

“What kinda trouble you getting yourself into?” Chris asks.

Jensen shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

Danneel sits up and motions at Jensen. “Weeks ago you hated going there and lately you’ve been strangely … happy.”

“I can’t be happy that my patient’s progressing?”

“You’re often very happy your patients are progressing,” Chris agrees. “But not this one. Any time we ask you about him, you sigh, roll your eyes, and change the subject.”

“You hated going there,” Danneel points out.

Jensen’s a few bottles in, having downed beers while his coworkers rattled on about the Cubs’ position in their division while he waited for better conversation – namely Chris and Danneel – to arrive. That coupled with the fact that he’s sitting at the table with his two closest friends, he lets a rush of air out through his nose before he laughs at himself. “Okay, so it was miserable in the beginning. He’s crude and incredibly pushy, but it’s fine now. He has decent moments.”

Chris makes a face as he brings his bottle up to drink. “Sucks that it’s finally working when you’ll be done soon.”

He thinks about how bad Jared’s knee really is and how slowly therapy is moving to ensure the muscles are ready for some real work. He told Jared it would remain their secret and no matter how loose his lips feel right now, he’s set to keep that part under wraps. “Yeah, that sucks,” he mumbles, then takes a long drag from his beer. 

Danneel shifts so they’re turned into each other. “You keep saying he’s sleazy and offensive.”

“I do not,” Jensen insists.

“You’ve said it a few times,” she says. They sit in a strange silence, commentary from the Sox game overhead and bunches of people across the bar cheering with a routine single bringing a runner in. Danneel fusses as she tries to put words together and finally asks, “Is he hitting on you?”

“No,” Jensen nearly shouts in defense.

“Oh, my God,” Chris exclaims.

“No, he’s not!” Jensen yells back with his hands out towards them. 

Danneel’s mouth drops ridiculously wide as she stares at him. She mouths Chris’s exact words and can’t take her eyes off of Jensen. 

Jensen fights for the right response, but he figures the time it takes to come up with one is enough of an answer. 

Danneel and Chris share a long, shocked look and then bust into surprised laughter. “Je-_sus_!” she shrieks. “No wonder you keep going!” 

Chris rises to smack Jensen on the shoulder. “Christ, boy, you really did get some good dirt.”

“No, come on, seriously,” Jensen argues, but it’s futile given how excitable his friends are. “I didn’t say anything.”

They settle down a bit, but are still grinning and struggling to drink without spilling beer over the lips of their bottles. “No, no, it’s okay,” Danneel says, nodding. “Secret’s safe here.”

Jensen shakes his head, doing all he can to not watch them be this way. “No, really. It’s a big deal. We have this understanding-”

“Oh, I bet you do!” Chris crows. 

“Not like that!”

“What happens in Padalecki Palace, stays in Padalecki Palace?”

“Not like that!” Jensen repeats louder. “There’re women there all the time. He’s extremely healthy in that regard. Well, not lately, but there were!”

Chris and Danneel look at each other and laugh all over again. 

Jensen gets a solid promise from the both of them to keep their traps shut, though they’re still hysterical over the whole matter. 

He supposes it’s better than nothing.


	3. Part 3

Two weeks pass and Jared’s ready for solid work on the treadmill lined up among a handful of other workout machines in his gym. They’ve been literally baby-stepping to right Jared’s stance and give him the confidence to put real weight on his knee, but now Jared’s going steadily on the machine and Jensen’s eyes are glued on the pace and bend of his joints and the way his foot rolls on the reel.

“Did you really win money on my knee?” Jared asks.

Jensen glances up to see Jared staring across the room with trickles of sweat smearing near his ears when he pushes hair away from his face. It’s been a long two weeks with Jensen talking Jared into more intense exercises and heavier weights on his ankle, easy conversation replacing obnoxious innuendos, not to mention Jensen’s own fear of the ways Danneel and Chris could terrify him after he talked too much that one night. Luckily, Jared and Jensen have each come out safe in both matters. 

“How long’ve you been waiting to ask about that?”

“A while,” Jared chuckles. “That first day, you said a hundred.”

“I did,” he nods and smiles. 

“How’d you know?”

Jensen taps a few buttons to incline the machine. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a physical therapist.”

“Shut up,” Jared pants a little with the increase. 

“PCLs are common in female athletes,” he replies idly, eyes trained on Jared’s knee as Jared adjusts to new angle.

“That’s pretty insulting, man.”

Jensen laughs and stands next to the console, resting a hand on it as he watches Jared’s chest rise and fall comfortably. “You have slim hips and long legs. Not too far from a lady.”

“So, you _have_ been checking me out?”

“And you were being _so nice_ lately. I should’ve known the shoe would drop.”

“I’ve been trying,” Jared insists. 

Jensen nods, and somehow he’s not reluctant to say, “I’ve been noticing.” 

Jared looks at him with a small, strange smile, then turns forward and breathes deep as he keeps jogging. “So, I have tiny hips and giant legs, and I’m prone to ripping up my PCL?”

“Yeah, kinda. It’s the way you turn on your knees with the bulk of your weight in your upper body. I saw the thing replayed enough to see that.”

“I thought you didn’t watch basketball?”

“Coworkers put it on in the break room while I was in there,” Jensen says dryly. “You were the hot topic in the clinic for a while.”

“You guys bet on injuries all the time?” Jared asks oddly.

Jensen chuckles and raises the incline another level. “Yeah, they tend to. They’ve got an unhealthy obsession.”

“Did they bet on how long you’d last?”

He watches Jared and how he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek. He has no clue why Jared’s asking, or even why Jared seems weird about it. “Not that I know of.”

“You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would.”

Jensen’s the one now biting into his mouth, trying to not smile. “Yeah, me too.”

+++

Jensen lets himself into the house to terse voices carrying from the kitchen. He’s not up for eavesdropping, but it’s hard to ignore.

“The important thing is you’re up and around. You’re looking good.”

That voice is new, but the loud, angry, “The important thing is you being a fucking snake,” is definitely Jared. 

“Hey,” the other guy laughs. “You weren’t the first guy I signed, and you’re not gonna be my last.”

“You said I was your money ball,” Jared argues. “That you’d take us both straight to the bank.”

“And have I done anything but pad your bank account? You’re not going dry in Chicago, far as I can tell.”

“You’re walking around with Burton like he’s the goddamn prom king. How about that?”

Another laugh, though haughty this time, and the guy says, “While you’re on the bench, I’ve gotta keep up my business, Jay. C’mon.”

“Oh shut your … I’m not on the fucking bench.”

“Can you nail a layup yet?”

Jensen wasn’t planning on intruding, but he’s not about to waste most of their session standing in the foyer listening to this conversation. He steps into the kitchen doorway and does his best to not look intimidated by the strong set of Jared’s stance and bitter look or the dark haired guy across the island from him in a high-end pressed shirt and slacks. 

“Oh, God, Jared,” the guy groans, looking right at Jensen. “You promised me you weren’t screwing around with dick anymore. I can only hide so much”

Without thought, Jensen shoots out, “I’m his physical therapist.” He has enough good sense to sound offended, because he seriously is. “What’s going on?”

“Jensen,” Jared says mockingly bright as he glares at the other guy. “Meet Matt, my agent. I’m sure you’ve seen his ugly mug all over the TV with his _favorite_ client.”

Truthfully, Matt is anything but ugly with strong angles to his face and a fit body that’s obvious with the way his clothes cling to him, but Jensen’s not about to do the guy any favors. So, when Matt approaches him and goes to shake his hand with a charming smile and introduction, Jensen barely responds more than to insist a bit angrily, “Jared’s doing good. He’s bouncing right back.” He’s not sure where he’s feeling the need to defend Jared, but it’s here and coming before he can stop it. “He’s not gonna ride any bench.”

“That’s great to hear,” Matt smiles. “Hopefully before the All Star break. Get a little excitement drummed up for the trade deadline.”

Now, Jensen feels the challenge professionally. “Pre-season. I guarantee it.”

“Really?” Matt chuckles, then grins at Jared. “Well, good, Jay. You’re surrounding yourself with positive attitudes. Just like I’ve always said you should.”

Surprisingly, Jared hardly reacts to Matt’s words and is instead watching Jensen, face unreadable. 

Matt pats Jensen’s shoulder then points a finger at Jared with another smooth smile. “You keep up the good work, pal, and we’ll start talking about options. Miami’s nice all year round. Or maybe we’ll get you back to San Antonio after all.”

Jensen slides his eyes to Jared’s just as Jared cuts his look to Matt, obviously seething but keeping his mouth shut. He has no clue what’s going on here, but it’s not pretty, so he leans back on the silver fridge behind him and watches the stand-off.

“It’s good seeing you up on your feet,” Matt insists with something more genuine. He pats Jensen’s shoulder again, and smiles at him. “You’re a magician, man. Everyone was afraid he’d never step foot on a court again.”

“He will,” Jensen pushes. 

“All thanks to you.” Matt grins again, pointing at Jensen, and Jesus, Jensen would love to break that finger right off. 

Then Matt’s gone, leaving Jared and Jensen staring at the empty doorway he’d just stepped through. Jensen feels unsettled from the entire exchange, and more so at the sudden need to take Jared’s side. Or even why his temper is flared, or how he’s feeling any bit of real empathy for Jared throughout the conversation. 

“They really think you’re not gonna play?” Jensen asks, trying to pull his brain away from any thoughts on why he’d said all that he did.

“Matt’s an agent,” Jared spits out as he crosses the room. “He’ll go wherever the hottest player is.”

“And you’re not right now?”

“You know that better than I do.”

Jensen sees how Jared’s chest is pressing out with his harsh, troubled breathing, and he’s not sure what to say, or even not to. “What’s the Miami thing, or San Antonio? Are you leaving?”

Jared shrugs and glances to the doorway again. “If I’m not back to form,” he says lamely.

“You will be,” Jensen vows.

“You’re so sure, huh?”

“Yeah, I am,” he pushes on. “You’re a week from some real running, and then you’ll be hauling your ass around the court like it’s nothing. Don’t leave Chicago. Fuck that guy and all his smug–”

Suddenly, Jared sets his hands on Jensen’s face and his mouth to Jensen’s, pressing him into the fridge. Jensen brings his hands up to Jared’s stomach and starts to push him away, but Jared’s tongue slips over Jensen’s lips, and he feels his nerves light up with the touch. He curls his fingers into Jared’s shirt and brings him in, conceding to the push-pull they’ve been riding for weeks now and just letting it be. 

Jared sets his weight into Jensen, moaning lightly as Jensen opens his mouth and meets Jared’s tongue, pressing right back into it. Jensen spreads his lips wider to let Jared reach further inside as his heart pounds at breakneck speeds, making him dizzy and reckless. He yanks on Jared’s shirt, hauls him in tighter, and gives back as good as Jared’s giving, tongues thick and wet, lips sliding through the slick of the kiss. 

They’re breathing heavily and sagging into each other when Jared pulls back. He rests his head against Jensen’s and mumbles, “You’re defending me.”

Jensen clenches his eyes shut and focuses on steadying his breathing, because he has no clue what’s going on and how he’s allowed it to happen. How and when he’s let Jared in, started to like him, developed these feelings and the want to protect Jared as if the guy’s life choices and his asshole agent matter. “I’ve done stupider things,” he admits.

“Like letting me kiss you?”

“That would be one.”

Jared laughs, air puffing against Jensen’s cheek. “Or kissing me back?”

“That’d be another,” he replies, chancing to open his eyes and look at Jared. Shockingly, Jared’s eyes are bright and intent on Jensen, but not in a leer or even playful. And his smile is softer, framed by cheeks that seem pinker than Jensen can remember seeing on the guy, even through pain and exercise. 

Thumbing across Jensen’s cheek bone, Jared murmurs, “Not many people defend me.”

“You should read a paper or watch a li’l TV,” he says flatly, trying to shift the moment into something less tempting. He’s going to ignore the fact that he hasn’t shoved Jared away yet. “Those guys can’t do anything but defend you.”

“They don’t know me.”

The way Jared says it quiet and slow does things to Jensen, like make his stomach turn and his mind whirl. This isn’t the guy who fucks girls in costumes for fun, or has tried to grope Jensen through a majority of their sessions. This is something else entirely, and Jensen’s not sure he can handle the new layer being peeled away. 

To bypass that entire thought, Jensen shifts and nudges Jared back. “Fighting with your agent or not, you’ve got a session.”

Jared doesn’t move very far and sweeps his hands down Jensen’s face, his neck, and over his shoulders. “Have I told you how much your professionalism turns me on?”

“Jared,” he chuckles before he can keep it in his throat. He knows this is _such_ a bad idea, but Jared’s got a soft smile and is leaning in again to kiss, also soft and slow. Jensen murmurs a little, trying to get his words together and stop this, but the gentle swipe of Jared’s tongue in his mouth is hypnotic, and he’s kissing right back. His chest burns as he holds his breath, as Jared presses him into the fridge again, deepens the kiss, and forces Jensen’s head into the cool metal behind him. 

He summons the will to push at Jared’s chest and keep himself against the fridge to retain the distance. Locking his elbows, he ensures that there’s at least an arm-length of space between them, though he’ll ignore how his hands curl over the mounds of muscle of Jared’s chest, or how Jared smiles at him for it. “Okay, seriously. You’ve got a date with a treadmill.”

Jared runs his hands up and down Jensen’s arms, fingers squeezing here and there. “What if I promise to do it after you leave?” 

Jensen tips his head to the side and raises an eyebrow, which makes Jared smirk at him, then playfully frown. 

“Okay, fine. You win this time. But we’ll get back to this after, right?”

His breath catches. Beyond the big mistake that these kisses have been, Jensen knows there’s no way to stop Jared now that he’s allowed him in. “This is a bad idea, Jared.”

Jared closes his hands around Jensen’s wrists, pulls them down between them, and squeezes Jensen’s hands. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You would,” Jensen chuckles. He twists his hands out of Jared’s hold. “How about we focus on you and your career? That’s what I’m here for anyway.”

Taking a deep breath, Jared steps back and runs a hand through his hair. He looks more troubled than he did through his argument with his agent, and Jensen can’t help the small tinge of guilt running through him for making Jared this way. But Jensen knows he has to keep them on task, for the both of them. For Jared’s knee and his own sanity.

On the treadmill, Jared’s more determined than ever, quieter than usual, and pushing himself harder than before. Jensen worries it’s Jared’s attempt to get through the session faster so he can force more of that kitchen action, but when Jared’s done and sweating, he just walks over to a nearby cabinet and grabs a towel to wipe his face. 

Jensen tucks his elastic bands and weights into his bag and does his best to not look up, even when he knows Jared’s watching him. 

“It’s not an awful idea.”

He looks up to Jared then stands, pulls the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and awkwardly smiles. “It’s not a great one.”

Jared’s eyes move over Jensen’s body, head to toe in the least sexual manner. It’s almost more like he’s just taking Jensen in. He keeps with Jensen’s eyes for a few moments, then asks, “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

“I have a job to do, yeah.”

“Job, right,” he mumbles. 

Jensen nods, trying so hard to ignore how strange Jared sounds, and steps out to the foyer. Jared follows and opens the door for him, leaning on it and forcing a smile. Jensen glances down the front walk, half expecting Katie or that brunette or redhead to appear in a slutty Batgirl costume, or maybe a pilot aiming for the Mile High Club, but he realizes it’s been weeks since he’s seen anyone in this house aside from Jared and Matt today. He’s tempted to ask about it, though he knows that’s worse than just walking out this door like nothing happened between him and Jared, so he does that instead.

+++

At the clinic, Jensen attempts to be more focused than ever, given how quick he is to get from one session to the next or how he buries his head in patient notes and files. In the break room, he’s arched over Jared’s folder, squeezing his left hand into a fist as he attempts to fill in the blanks for how well Jared’s progressed. Over the last few weeks, he’s made half-assed comments in the file to keep information out of sight, but he knows he should keep it up to date. The wrong words cross his mind as all he can think about is the kitchen and how he stood up for Jared and then couldn’t stand up for himself when Jared kissed him. How he allowed it happen and how, goddamnit, he really liked it. 

He’s so pulled into the file and what to write that he doesn’t realize he has company until Danneel scoots onto the table to sit next to his elbow. “You’ve been quiet today,” she says with a smile. 

When her fingers pick at a few pages in the file, Jensen snaps it shut. He’s been intent to keep Jared’s file away from curious eyes, not wanting anyone to see just how bad the injury is or how long their sessions are. Now he counts on his professionalism as the excuse for protecting Jared. 

Danneel taps at the tab with Jared’s name on it and grins. “So, how’s Romeo doing? He back to tip-top shape yet?”

“Nearly,” Jensen says with a nod.

“Not gonna touch the Romeo comment?” she chuckles. 

He stares at her, unable to move from her playful look, because his mind is bursting with the memory of what happened in Jared’s kitchen. There’s no way he can tell her, even if he really wanted to. Okay, he kind of wants to, because how the hell does he hang onto something like this? Jared Padalecki, Chicago’s favorite bachelor, kissed Jensen in his kitchen and insisted on more in a voice that said it wasn’t just a quick fuck. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, eyebrows dropping with confusion. “You’ve been going over there a lot lately.”

He’s just breathing, trying to decide in a split second if he should say anything. He can’t form the right answer to confess or deny it all.

“Jensen!” Samantha calls out happily when she enters the room, breaking the tension between him and Danneel. “How’s everything going?”

He shifts towards her and puts on as strong a smile as he can manage. “Good, everything’s good,” he replies.

“Mr. Padalecki coming along?”

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” Jensen nods. 

A few other coworkers filter in, including Jessica who smirks at Jensen as she’s caught the last few lines of conversation. “Yeah, how is our favorite ball man?”

“He’s fine,” he replies tightly

She steps up to his free side and tugs on Jared’s file, but Jensen presses his hand to the middle of it, keeping it in place. “Oh, c’mon. We’re all curious when our savior’s gonna be back on the court. How long’s it take to clear a PCL?”

“Files are confidential,” he grits out. 

Jessica rolls her eyes, then looks around the room. “Please, like we haven’t all shared notes before?”

Danneel stands and squeezes Jensen’s shoulder. “Hey, Jen,” she says pointedly, changing the subject. “I could use a second opinion on a rotator cuff.”

“Sounds good,” he smiles tightly and stands, bringing his files with him. 

She leads him through the hallway to the front desk and gives him a sympathetic smile. “I wouldn’t trust her to order my coffee.”

He chuckles. “Good to know I’m not just paranoid.”

“Oh, you’re that, too,” she laughs. She pushes a file in front of him and flips it to an MRI. When he eyes her, she shrugs and gives him a strange look. “What? I know how to be honest sometimes.”

Jensen smirks and eyes the image, pointing to a white burst. “That’s a full tear.”

“That’s what I was thinking, though the tech’s saying otherwise. I get the feeling they don’t wanna be honest about it. The kid’s only 19, but he just had his first start in AA. It’ll end his career before it even gets off the ground.”

He looks at her and takes a deep breath. A glance around them says they’re alone aside from the receptionist who’s busy with an incoming call. “It wasn’t a routine PCL.”

She doesn’t seem to get it immediately, but he doesn’t have to clarify. “You mean … Jared?”

Nodding, he looks beyond her to make sure no one approaches them as he continues. “It was pretty nasty, but he wants to keep it quiet. That’s why I’m still there.”

Danneel’s surprised, for sure, then she smirks and elbows him. “And here I thought you were staying because you were falling for the guy.”

Jensen is horrified and makes the appropriate insulted huff at the thought. Though, he knows it’s more at the fact she’s saying it aloud and laughing, getting far too close to the button.

+++

At the bar, he does all he can to avoid conversation about Jared. There’s been a guy a few tables over shooting him some kind glances, and he’s returned them just so he can think about someone other than his patient and sessions at Jared’s house. Even if the long lines of the guy’s body and dark hair remind him of exactly that.

By the end of the night, he’s more than buzzed, and has shared a few short conversations at the bar with the guy, knowing full well that it’s guaranteed for the night. He’s finishing off what he’s calling his last beer and ready to grab the guy and head out when Danneel slides her chair close. He realizes they’re left alone at the table, and she’s leaning into his side to talk quietly.

“That guy’s been watching you all night.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he smirks. 

“This isn’t typically your thing,” she points out. “You’re usually a lot less obvious.”

“Sometimes nature calls.”

“I bet you’ve got plenty of energy to burn off.” She’s smirking at him and nudging his side, and he doesn’t have to ask what she means. “Trading one vice for another?”

“Something like that,” he admits. 

“You really like him, huh?”

Jensen laughs, sipping the last bits from his bottle. “I hardly know him.”

“I’m talking about Jared.”

“I’m trying to ignore that.”

She elbows him lightly. “How much trouble you getting into over there?”

He laughs again, but it’s a tense this time. “Enough.”

“Oh, Jensen,” she sighs, but she’s smiling, too. “What’re you doing?”

“I really don’t know,” he admits, laughing at himself. 

She doesn’t press more, and he doesn’t bother sorting the whole mess out. He doesn’t leave with that guy either, and tries not to worry about whether that’s a good sign or not.

+++

Okay, so he lets himself off the hook for liking Jared and considering more. There’s freedom in giving himself a break, even if he’s nervous to show up for Jared’s session. 

He finds Jared in the gym, already going on the treadmill with a quick, steady stride and an impressive incline. 

“Aren’t you a surprise,” Jared says with a tight smile.

“You, too,” Jensen chuckles, putting his bag to the ground and stepping up to the machine. “Starting early?”

Jared drops the incline, but picks up his stride. “I figured I should get to work, just in case.”

“In case what?” Jensen asks slowly. 

Quickening the speed on the machine, Jared jogs steadily and keeps his eyes to the TV across the room. “In case you didn’t show.”

“Jared …”

“No, it’s fine,” he huffs out, still not looking at Jensen. “I’m not used to hearing no, and I can be stupid about it. I know it’s been inappropriate and all, but I don’t want to screw up my chance for recovery here. So …”

Jensen wants to laugh that Jared’s more committed now, pushing himself to run and keep his knee loose and easy, but it’s strange to see him so serious. Maybe even a good kind of strange. Jensen finds himself beginning to admire Jared’s perseverance. 

“We’re in this for another month and then you’re back on the court,” Jensen points out with a small smile. 

Jared matches Jensen’s smile and licks his lips. “Another month, yeah.”

“You’ll be back up to no good soon enough, and you’ll forget that you couldn’t even stand on it when I first came around.”

“I don’t think I’ll forget that,” Jared jokes lightly, easing the moment. “You having to hold me up wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

“That’s gotta be pretty bad,” Jensen laughs, resting his arm at the treadmill console. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other awful moments to compare.”

“Like making out with my physical therapist in my kitchen.” Jared’s eyes skate back to the TV. “Just thought it could’ve been a little fun while it lasted, but I’ve got the signal loud and clear.”

Jensen watches his fingers rub at the edge of the controls. “Not really what I want,” he admits quietly.

“You don’t like fun?”

Instead of answering, Jensen hits the stop button on the machine and the belt slowly rolls out with Jared stopping at the far end of it. Jensen steps under the console and onto the machine with a nervous smile, because he can’t believe he’s doing this. He mumbles, “C’mere,” and grabs the edge of Jared’s shirt to pull him near. They’re incredibly close and Jared’s looking at him with barely contained wonder, but not moving any further. Jensen cracks a smile, taking in the way Jared’s hair is slicked back from his face and his tan skin is glistening with a light layer of sweat. He looks good. He was made to be an athlete, looking like this.

“I like fun,” Jensen says, setting his hands on Jared’s hips. He smirks when Jared wavers in place, like he’s trying hard to not push. “And somehow, after all your awful comments and hissy fits, I like you.”

Jared drops his face closer, stopping just short of kissing. He breathes through his nose and his fingers just barely touch Jensen’s sides. “You’d probably lose your job, doing this, right?”

“So would you.”

His eyes slide down Jensen’s face, focusing on Jensen’s lips. “We’re not gonna tell anyone.”

“What happens here, stays here,” Jensen reminds him of their promise that second day he’d shown up here. 

“That makes it kind of exciting,” Jared murmurs. He closes the distance and his mouth goes to Jensen’s bottom lip, lightly tugging on it before pressing his tongue inside. 

Jensen opens up to Jared, thinking that it’s _a lot_ exciting, especially when Jared’s hands grip at Jensen’s back, fingers tight against his muscles. Jensen brings his hands around Jared’s waist, slides them under his shirt and up his back, grabbing tight, too, so they’re pressed together from their chests on down. Jared pushes into him so he’s got the console against his back, but he’s also got Jared’s hips slotted with his and he feels the rub of Jared’s dick through their clothes. He moans as Jared shifts one way then the other, and he can feel Jared getting hard. 

“That was quick,” Jensen mumbles against Jared’s mouth, smiling when Jared does, too. 

Jared tucks his hands at Jensen’s lower back so they can grind tight, and he pushes his head against Jensen’s, breathing hard. “It’s been a long time.”

“What about Katie?”

“She hasn’t been here since I said so.” Jensen’s mind flashes back a few weeks when Jared was put out with the small road bump of his knee swelling and how he’d insisted he’d kept Katie away. “No one else either. I’ve been kinda crazy about my physical therapist.”

Jensen turns his head to capture Jared’s lips in searing kiss, pushing his tongue in and grabbing Jared’s neck as Jared quickens his hips. There isn’t an inch of space between them, they’re locked so tight together and rutting against each other and groaning. It’s not like Jensen’s celibate, but he can’t remember the last time it felt this exhilarating, this good, this hot. 

He keeps a tight hold on Jared’s neck and grabs Jared’s ass with his other hand. His fingers press into flesh and hard muscle, and he tugs in rhythm as he grinds right into Jared. Jared whines into Jensen’s mouth, stalling his tongue but gripping even harder at Jensen’s ass, a handful of cheek in each of his big palms. Jared bites Jensen’s bottom lip as he keens and shoves into Jensen, coming in his shorts. 

Jensen slips his fingers into Jared’s hair and pushes against Jared, sliding their hips together until he comes, too. Belatedly, he groans at the wetness in his pants and curses under his breath. 

Jared chuckles and languidly kisses Jensen, brushing his hands over Jensen’s ass then up to his waist. “That was fun,” he mumbles.

Chuckling along with Jared, Jensen nods a little. “Sure was.”

“Maybe next time we do this without the treadmill in the way.”

“Maybe,” Jensen smirks, patting at Jared’s chest as Jared shifts back. 

Jared’s checks are all pink, his lips bitten red, and his eyes dazed, and Jensen goes dizzy with the sight and the knowledge of why Jared looks that way. 

God, he’s in so much fucking trouble.

+++

The surprising thing is that it’s not like everything changes. Jared still works out and keeps on task, and Jensen still hits the clinic at nights. He doesn’t go over to Jared’s the weekend after the treadmill incident, or even following work. But there are quite a few smirks shot between them and the conversation is loose and easy and fun. 

On Monday, Jensen shows up a bit early, but says it’s in the name of regimen. Jared takes it for an entirely different sign and they make out in the foyer for twenty minutes before Jensen can right them from the cabinet next to the staircase and _shove_ Jared towards the gym. 

On Tuesday, Jensen lets Jared hijack the session. At least, he’ll blame Jared for it.

After the treadmill and midway through stretching, Jared is lightly grunting when Jensen leans on Jared’s shin to push his leg into his chest. It’s not a loud sound, or overly lascivious, but when he starts to softly smile, Jensen gets the picture, and what a nice picture it is with Jared laid out on his back, hands curled around the side of the table and the tight grip making the muscles and veins in his forearms pop. His head is tipped back with his neck bared, and his shirt is hanging loose near his hips, shifting with every movement. He’s absolute putty in Jensen’s hands, letting Jensen press his leg up as far as is feasible for a human being, and Jensen laughs to himself because he’s just testing Jared’s will to withstand this much contact and not do or say something perverted.

Jensen bends Jared’s leg to ninety degrees then leads it over Jared’s other leg, making him shift towards his side with his back still on the table. Jared’s shirt rides up with the move and Jensen sits back, staring at it even as he holds Jared’s leg to the side. 

A low, quick whistle breaks Jensen from staring and he picks up his eyes to find Jared watching him. “See something, doc?”

Chuckling, Jensen pulls Jared’s leg back for another stretch then runs through them all again. He keeps eyeing the hint of flesh between Jared’s shirt and the elastic band on his cotton shorts. With Jared’s soft murmurs at every bend and flex of his leg, Jensen finds himself getting closer, and he finally just dips down and plants an open-mouthed kiss to the bared skin. 

Jared’s hand settles on the back of Jensen’s neck as Jensen licks at Jared’s sweat-salty skin, sucking lightly at the taught flesh. Jared nudges Jensen’s shoulder with his knee and squeezes at Jensen’s neck with a mumble to move, and when he does, Jared spreads his legs open and leads Jensen right back to his hip. 

With Jared’s fingers sliding across the back of his head and his stomach going concave to Jensen’s lips slipping across his hip, Jensen smiles and feels a rush of pressure slink from his stomach down to his dick in seconds. He pushes Jared’s shirt up and follows it, nipping light marks across his stomach and up to his chest, then lets the shirt go and moves up to kiss Jared. It’s surprisingly slow and easy with Jared tilting his head to let Jensen lead the kiss. 

When Jared’s knees squeeze at Jensen’s hips, Jensen hums and pushes down on the knees so Jared keeps his legs on the table. Jensen slips back again with his fingers going to Jared’s waistband and untying the string keeping them on Jared’s slim hips. 

Jared keeps running his hands over Jensen’s head and his shoulders. “Been waiting on this for a while,” he murmurs. 

Jensen snorts and pulls the string loose. “I see I have high expectations to meet.”

“You just touch it and you’re good.”

“You’re so romantic,” Jensen deadpans as he slips his hand inside and closes a fist around Jared’s dick. 

“Oh, God,” Jared whines, bringing his knees back up to press around Jensen.

Jensen pushes Jared’s right knee down again, then straddles it and rests back to keep Jared’s leg flat and to give him room to pull Jared out of his shorts and lean in to slowly jack Jared and lick at the head. 

“Yeah, Jensen,” he sighs, breathless as he keeps talking. “Can’t hardly think straight with you so close, just always wanna push you down like this.”

Sucking at the crown, Jensen keeps his eyes on Jared’s, which are blown wide and watching him intently. “How long’s it been?” Jensen asks a raised eyebrow, curious and pleased to have the upper hand, literally, too.

“Since what?”

“Since you were blown properly?”

Jared bites into a laugh and hitches his hips up when Jensen licks down his shaft. “Uh, most definitely a while. Not since I was going to thoroughly enjoy it. Couldn’t even tell you right now.”

At this point, all inhibitions are gone, as is obvious with Jared’s nervous, airy chattering, and Jensen’s want to taunt him through the entire thing. 

“How long since you’ve, ah, blown someone properly?” Jared asks, still seeming tense, yet amused. 

Jensen runs a tight fist up and down Jared’s dick and sucks lightly at the tip for long moments before he shoots Jared his best smirk. “Not so long I don’t remember how.”

Jared drops his head to the table and groans, and that’s even before Jensen slides his mouth down Jared’s dick, pressing his tongue at the underside and sucking hard as he pulls back up. The heat and weight of Jared’s dick in his mouth is a thing he hadn’t realized he craved, but now that he’s got it, savors it, sucking hard. He goes on like this, egged on by Jared’s ramblings and roaming hands constantly squeezing at Jensen’s shoulders, forearms, neck, wherever they land for more than a split second. 

“Christ, Jensen,” Jared pants. “You definitely remember, definitely do.

Jensen rumbles a laugh and the pressure makes Jared whimper, and precome fills Jensen’s mouth. He sucks his way up to the tip, then tilts his head and goes back down with Jared’s dick bumping the inside of his cheek. Jared’s hips pop up and his other leg runs over Jensen’s, rubbing back and forth. Jensen lifts off and pumps his hand fluidly, Jared’s dick wet from his mouth. 

He licks his lips and Jared murmurs, “That’s one hell of a mouth, Jen.”

Smirking, Jensen picks up the speed of his hand and leans down to suck on Jared’s balls, already full and tight, making Jared whine more.

Jensen’s own heart is racing and he feels adrenaline pounding his brain. He’d love to take this further, strip Jared down, turn him over, and take his tight ass as his, but as much as the table can hold them now, he’s imagining too much movement would take the whole thing down to the ground. Somehow, he shelves that image for later and licks up Jared’s cock again, taking him down as far as he can go, and working faster to finish Jared off.

Just a few minutes and Jared’s squeezing at Jensen’s neck. “I’m so done, Christ, Jensen.”

He moves to the head of Jared’s dick and feels it pulse in his hand as Jared’s whimpering gets harsh and then he comes in Jensen’s mouth. Jensen swallows as much as he can, then runs his mouth down Jared’s dick to suck up the rest of it. Jared’s hands slip loosely down to Jensen’s upper arms, panting and coming back to earth apparently, given how slack his whole body has gone.

Jensen slides up on his hands to kiss him, sucking on Jared’s lower lip. 

“God, how will I ever repay that?” Jared asks quietly. 

“Like you’re not already plotting it out?”

“I was,” he admits with a small laugh. “But you just sucked out all my concentration. That good idea’s gone right out the window.”

Jensen smiles and kisses him again. “You’re too easily distracted.”

Jared runs his thumb over Jensen’s lips, pressing into the corner, and Jensen lightly sucks on the tip. He groans, “God, how could I not be?” He pulls his hand back and pushes at Jensen’s shoulder. “C’mon. Turn over and I’ll try my best to beat that.”

“No, not like that,” Jensen says, shaking his head and sitting back. 

“Not like what? You don’t want me to-”

“You’re not getting on your knees.”

Jared furrows his brow. “You don’t want me on my knees?”

Jensen laughs and pats at Jared’s stomach. “I very much do. But not your bad knee.”

Sliding his hand down Jensen’s chest, Jared ends the trail by palming Jensen through his pants. “Then what do you suggest?”

The full cup of Jared’s huge hand is doing wonders immediately, and Jensen could stay like this and just grind into his palm, but he doesn’t exactly want to wear Jared’s track pants out of the house like he did after the treadmill last week. 

Sighing and closing his eyes as Jared’s hand rubs harder and more insistently, Jensen grits out, “Anything that keeps my pants clean.”

“You’re so high maintenance,” Jared playfully grumbles. In seconds, he leads Jensen to his side then hops off the table, pulling Jensen’s legs around so he can stand between them.

Huh, yeah, he didn’t think about this, and he can’t think more on it once Jared’s got his pants open and dick out. Jared’s hand works him easily with a loose grip that’s more than enough stimulation. He’s already hard, thanks to Jared’s moaning and groaning, and now with Jared touching him, he wants to come out of his skin. Especially when Jared wraps his other hand around Jensen’s neck and tugs him close to kiss, tongue sliding against Jensen’s palette at nearly the same rhythm as he grips Jensen’s dick. 

Jensen grabs Jared’s jaw and hip to bring him closer, but Jared doesn’t stay. He kisses down Jensen’s neck, licking into the hollow of his throat and nuzzling down Jensen’s chest, mouthing through his cotton polo and biting as he drops lower, finally swallowing Jensen’s down. 

Swearing loudly, Jensen smacks the table as Jared sucks like his life depends on it. It’s nowhere near finesse, but _Christ_, Jensen’s gonna get there real quick and good. Especially when Jared squeezes Jensen’s balls and lightly scrapes his teeth up Jensen’s shaft. 

Jared’s panting damn near as loud as Jensen is, and that just turns him on more, to know how into it Jared’s getting when he licks his wide tongue up Jensen’s shaft and drops down over it again, sloppy and wet. 

Jensen can’t take it anymore, feeling his skin tingle and his stomach bottom out, and he falls back to his elbows and drops his head back. He mumbles a warning that’s useless, because Jared repays the favor and swallows everything Jensen’s got when his orgasm hits. 

Before he can come to his senses, Jared’s leaning over him and kissing, smiling into it. “So, how’d I do?”

“The Romanian judge gives it a five-point-four for form,” he mumbles. He lightly grabs at Jared’s hair and pulls him closer, saying against his mouth, “But I give a hundred for satisfaction.”

Jared rightfully grins and laughs as they keep on kissing.

+++

He knows he’s smiling when he gets into work, but he avoids Danneel or Chris or any of their questions. He also bails on meeting them at the bar just so he won’t get loose-lipped and say something awful. 

The next few days, he’s feeling much the same as he and Jared mess around a little and laugh a lot, and he’s pretty damned happy he finally gave in. 

He’s so damned comfortable, and far from cranky, that when Jessica grills him for more information on Jared, he just grins, tells her he thinks she’s tacky and threatens to steal one of her patients. 

It’s a good day.

+++

The next week, the bottom falls out.

He’s walking up the steps to Jared’s house when his phone rings to Chris on the other end. 

“Dude, what the hell’s going on?”

“What’re you talking about?” Jensen asks, fumbling with his keys.

“Turn on WGN.”

Looking up to Jared’s mansion, he snorts. “Can’t really do that now.”

“Where are you?”

“At Jared’s.”

Chris whistles low. “Damn, so you’re in the middle of the shit, huh?”

“What shit?” When Chris doesn’t answer, he demands, “What the hell’re you talking about?”

“You really haven’t heard the news about Jared?”

“I’m standing on his doorstep – what’s wrong with Jared?” he asks in a rush.

“Guess you’re about to find out,” Chris replies and ends the call. 

Cursing under his breath, Jensen powers on through the door and to the gym. Jared’s leaning back on the treadmill, arms crossed, and glaring at the TV. Jensen puts his bag down and nears Jared, suddenly distracted by the noon-time newscaster rattling a jumble of words that make Jensen’s stomach drop.

“Well, at least this’ll only wreck my career a little,” Jared mumbles, eyes trained to the TV.

“What happened?” Jensen asks, at a complete loss for words. 

Jared laughs bitterly. “You’re the one who’d know.”

Jensen glances at Jared, then turns back to the screen. The sports segment is reporting that leaked medical records detail Jared’s knee is ruined, a major PCL injury that could keep him sidelined for the beginning of the season. 

“I don’t know how,” Jensen mumbles before Jared cuts him off, loud and pissed. 

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, that’s how.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jensen defends, but then he remembers the conversation with Danneel when he’d compared Jared to her young AA pitcher. 

Jared’s voice echoes in the gym when he yells, “I’ve been getting calls for the last hour asking me if I’ll ever recover! Real fucking nice, Jensen.”

“I told one person and she wouldn’t-”

“Obviously, she would!” Jared laughs deliriously. “What else did you tell her? Am I about to field calls on how I like my dick sucked, too?”

“No!” Jensen yells. “What the fuck, Jared?” He tries to explain, though can’t find the right words because he’s as shocked by the situation that Jared is.

Jared roughly sighs and marches out of the gym. Jensen follows him into the front hallway, arguing and defending, but Jared just shakes his head and when he’s halfway up the stairs, he announces, “We’re done.”

+++

Jensen pushes the door open to Danneel’s room, not caring that she’s got a patient on the table. 

Danneel glares at him for the intrusion, then shakes her head and goes back to manipulating a young girl’s ankle. “Don’t even start with me. I didn’t say anything.”

“Funny how you know exactly why I’m here,” he smarts.

“I didn’t say anything,” she repeats slowly and with more force. “Anyone could’ve looked at his file and made a few phone calls.”

When she turns full attention to her patient, lifting the girl’s leg into the air and directing her how to move it, Jensen goes back out to the hallway. The door slaps against the wall and slams shut. Everyone in the area looks at him. Everyone except Jessica. 

“You gotta be kidding,” he grumbles, staring right at her. 

When she finally looks at him, her mouth is set in a line before she tartly smiles and walks off.

He probably should not have called her tacky. Even if she’s proving him right.

“Goddamnit.”

+++

Jensen finds himself saying the same thing the next morning when he’s staring at Jared’s front door with a suddenly useless key in his hand because the locks have been changed. 

He rings the bell a handful of times, but there’s no answer, and he’s pounding his fist at the wood before he realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is. “Jared, c’mon, open up!” 

There’s no answer on Jared’s cell, or to another round of the bell, so he resorts to banging again.

The door whips open and Jared’s good and pissed when he steps into the doorway, looming over Jensen. “You mind not breaking down my door?”

“You mind talking to me?” he spits back.

“Yeah, I do. Especially since the shit I tell you gets out.”

“It was one thing and it wasn’t even me!”

Jared’s nostrils flare and his eyes go wide. “You’re the only one who knew! And whoever you told!”

Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to will himself to step back from Jared. He’s seen the guy pissed off enough, and it’s near impossible to get through to him on the first try. “Okay, look,” he says evenly. “I told one person. I told Danneel, and she didn’t-”

“Danneel?” he laughs harshly. “You fucking work with her and my file got out. How the hell does that not mean anything?”

“It wasn’t her!” he yells, throwing his hands towards Jared, but stopping short of shoving him. “It was someone else at work. This crazy, catty idiot who’s obsessed with you. She looked through your file and then gave copies to the news.”

Jared seems to be calming, at least enough that he’s not as loud when he asks, “You put it in my file?”

Jensen’s the bitter one now, laughing at Jared. “Yeah, it’s kind of protocol, you know?” When Jared remains quiet and still, Jensen goes on. “Half the people at work are all over me about you, and this girl is overly nosey. I pissed her off the other day so she decided to start shit. I didn’t tell anyone anything, but Danneel. She’s my best friend and I trust her enough to have shared a bit of _professional_ information.”

Jared keeps staring at Jensen unconvinced, shifting on his feet like he’s going to walk back inside and shut the door anyway. “Some girl you pissed off sold my file?”

“Yeah, she did. And now she’s out of a job for violating patient confidentiality. That shit’ll follow her around for a long time.” 

Cocking his hip against the doorway, Jared crosses his arms. “What else do you trust to tell Danneel?”

“What’re you talking about?” he asks, trying like hell to ignore the guilt starting to rise. 

“You tell her about everything?”

Jensen breathes slowly and focuses to keep his heart at a steady rate. It’s not exactly working, especially with how Jared’s staring him down. “She has ideas,” he admits loftily. Jared still seems to be wavering on how to respond, so Jensen moves forward with his hands going for Jared’s sides. “Let’s just-”

That’s when Jared makes a definitive move and steps into the house, bringing the door forward a few inches. “I don’t trust a lot of people,” Jared says low, and it’s more disturbing how flat his voice is than when he was full of anger. “You were right, it was a bad idea.”

“Jared, c’mon, it’s not like that,” he argues. “You can trust me.”

He looks beyond Jensen and sighs. “I’ll do the session, you don’t have to babysit me through it.”

The want to yell at Jared, remind him how long he pushed at Jensen until he broke and now to shove him back, is far too strong. 

“Come back on Monday, when it’s all blown over, and we’ll just work ‘til the end.”

Jensen’s mouth drops and he gapes at Jared before biting into his lip and looking away. There’s a dull ache building at the back of his neck and his chest is too tight to breathe evenly. This was not set to happen this way. If, and when, this whole thing was going to end, it was supposed to be when Jared’s treatment was done and he was back to his whirlwind life as Chicago’s most beloved son.

Jared gives him one last flat look, then walks away, swinging the door shut.

+++

“How bad is it?” Chris asks once Jensen yanks a chair out and sits at the table. He’s not up for socializing with his coworkers, but he’s definitely in need of a beer. Or a dozen. 

“How do you think?”

“You still have a job, right?” Danneel asks, sliding close to him. Her shoulder presses into his and it’s a small comfort. A very small one. “I heard about Jessica.”

“She deserves it,” he spits out before taking a long, very long, gulp from a bottle Chris slides his way. “And miraculously, I have a job. Not much else, but the asshole’s gonna let me scrape his knee back together anyway. Just not for another week, until he gets over it or something.”

Danneel nudges him. “It could always be worse,” she tries.

“And how’s that, Danneel?” he smarts back. 

Chris points his bottle towards Jensen. “His other secret could’ve gotten out.”

“Or one of yours,” she adds on. When Jensen shoots her a strange look, she takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair. “You’re easier to read than the comics. Something’s happening between exercises.”

Somehow, it feels good to have it said, and not because he did. He rolls his bottle between his hands, takes a few sips, and gives an angry smile. “Well, it ain’t anymore. That’s for sure.”

“Maybe once shit calms down?” Chris offers. “When people aren’t so obsessed with his comeback, and you get his ass back in the game, then it won’t be such a big deal?”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head as he stares at the beer in his hands. “Yeah, big, fat maybe.”

+++

Jensen shows up on Monday and Jared’s all business. They work through the routines with little more than Jensen giving him instruction and Jared complying.

It’s the same on Tuesday, Wednesday, and the rest of the week. Jensen can’t decide if he’s pissed or hurt, probably a crude combination of the two that manifests into him trying to get Jared to talk, but nothing works. 

Jared’s shut off and wound so tightly there’s no getting in. 

At the very least, Jensen’s got a job to finish. He didn’t give up on Jared’s knee at Day 2, and he’s not about to now.

+++

With a few more weeks of Jensen’s dedication and increasing hours, plus Jared’s mind set for determination, Jared’s back to regular strength and conditioning. Aside from general stretches in the gym, they head outside and Jared’s running circuits around cones, suicides, and layups across his basketball court. Jensen shuffles along with Jared, passing the ball back and forth, forcing Jared to twist this way and that, ensuring Jared – and his knee – can handle it. He always does. 

Once Jared got the confidence to work his knee, he’s burned through every exercise and work-out Jensen could offer him. He’s also kept his mouth zipped tight, even forgoing general pleasantries and casual conversation. Jensen will admit to himself that it’s both rewarding and frustrating to deal with Jared in this way. 

Especially since he’s now seeing Jared in all of his athletic glory, shooting threes at a steady pace as Jensen fields them back, or rebounding bad shots to dribble a few steps and crush the ball through the hoop with a heavy dunk. Even as late September brings a break in the temperatures, Jared’s always fitted in a tight tank and loose netted shorts, sweating through both in minutes and not acknowledging it in the slightest. 

Every session, they spend an hour in the gym for Jared to stretch and jog on the treadmill, another two or three on the court, and a half hour or so back in the gym or the attached bathroom, which is practically a locker room with an ice bath, spacious shower stall, and wall-to-wall mirrors. Jared’s ice downs are required and Jensen doesn’t stay long once Jared’s set in the bath, hating that no matter where he looks in the room, there’s a speck of Jared in the corner of his eye. 

Jensen’s far beyond disturbed that, now that Jared has stepped back and put a protective barrier between them, he’s finding himself wanting Jared more than ever. 

They’re almost done with the whole charade and Jensen figures it’s for the best that whatever they had for that one week ended when it did. 

One afternoon, Jared’s particularly pushy – both with his work ethic and the way he’s responding to Jensen’s directives. Jensen’s set to pack up while Jared’s in the ice bath, but he thinks twice and heads in with a thin sleeve brace. 

Jared’s reclined inside the tub, head resting at the edge, but Jensen can still see his face in a mirror. He can also tell Jared’s watching him approach. 

Jensen leans against the side of the tank and keeps his eyes on Jared’s face so he doesn’t begin to consider Jared’s bare chest or the slim-fitting trunks he’s got on. He motions with the brace and tries to smile even when Jared’s just staring at him like Jensen’s interrupting something. “I brought you a new one. High-end technology to block moisture. So, it should stay in place when you play. You’ve been readjusting yours a lot lately”

Shifting in the water, Jared looks up to Jensen then to the brace, grabbing it and feeling the material. “What’s this gonna do for my defense?” he asks flatly. 

“It’ll make sure you still have a knee after you play,” Jensen jokes lightly. When Jared just looks at him, Jensen goes on, “For the pain. You seemed a little uptight today.”

Jared slips his hands inside the brace and stretches it out, watching black elastic extend and mold to his fingers and snap back when he releases it. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

Jensen rubs over his legs, about to stand when Jared stretches the brace again, lets it snap back against his hands, and chuckles a little. 

“I’m going to Deerfield tomorrow.”

He’s well aware Jared’s talking about the Berto Center, where the Bulls practice. And he’s even more aware that the team’s been working out there for weeks, but Jared hadn’t been ready yet. He wants to question Jared on it, but he knows how Jared’s healed and pushed himself these last two months. Besides, it’s been almost four months, just how long Jensen had insisted it would take for Jared to get back on the court. 

Oddly, Jensen equates this to sending a child off to college: you know they’re ready and able, and will learn if it’s not right, but there’s that nagging worry that it’s not time to let the bird out of the cage.

Jensen forces a smile. “That’s awesome.”

Jared chuckles oddly and drops the brace onto ledge next to the bath. “We’ll see how awesome it is when I have real competition.” 

“I’m a little offended, man,” he jokes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jared smirks. “You probably can’t nail a half-court shot, but those guys can’t whip up a perfectly healed knee.”

Jensen tsks and glances around the room, aware he’s still smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

He looks back to Jared, who’d sounded so serious, but now has his eyes closed and is dropping lower in the tub so water sluices up to his neck. Jensen makes a face to himself then stands, tapping the side of the bath. “Well, you let me know how it goes.”

Jared hums and slips deep into the bath, bubbles popping out of his nose as he holds his breath.

+++

At the clinic, Samantha tells him Jared’s agent had called, and given Jared’s return to the Berto Center, he’s no longer needed. That the team’s trainers are taking over and Jared’ll be in _just-as-good_ hands. 

He tries to not show any reaction aside from a grateful smile when Samantha congratulates him on all his hard work and success in getting Jared back up to speed. 

He also tries to get right back to work, but nothing compares to the hours he’s spent at Jared’s, no matter how ornery or perverted the guy could get, or how tightly he’d shut himself off in their final weeks together. 

It stings real bad. He goes to bed with the bad taste on his tongue, but he still wakes up in the morning, so he’s got that going for him.

+++

As the season takes off, word is Jared Padalecki’s playing like he’s been granted a new life. His stats are higher than ever, he’s quicker down the court, meaner on defense, and all around breathing new life into a team that thought it was done. Speculation runs rampant for Jared’s career at the end of the season, whether he’ll nab a padded contract to stay or be tempted elsewhere.

Jensen doesn’t actually read any newspapers or watch sports segments to find that out. Danneel typically starts up the conversations around him. Chris, too. He’d curse them out for it, not wanting to give a lick about what’s going on, but he recognizes that they’ve been doing it for him, to update him on Jared in a supposedly professional manner in regards to his recovery. Among other things, he figures, too.

He lets them talk more often and lays off the nasty glares when they do it, because he starts to realize he actually misses the asshole.

+++

“You’re just trying to start shit,” Jensen grumbles, but he’s smiling a little. Danneel’s next to him at the front counter and doing her best to talk him into a road trip to catch a Bears game in St. Louis. 

“And how would that be?” she asks with a sweet smile. “I’m just suggesting we do something special for Ronnie’s birthday. Is live American football not special?”

“He’s English,” her points out of their new hire. 

“And? He likes football.”

Jensen laughs and elbows her. “It’s soccer to him.”

“Special delivery for our special therapist,” Samantha grins, handing an overnight envelope to Jensen.

He grants her a smile and takes the package, eying Danneel when he turns to the counter. Danneel smiles wide at Samantha, trying to slide in a good compliment, but their boss is already off to something else, and Jensen laughs at Danneel for it. 

She frowns and grumbles at him, “That’s my point anyway. Guy doesn’t know real football like he should.”

“I’m sure he likes rugby just fine.”

“Yeah, but this is different. Live action professional sports. And the Bears have a decent chance this year. Let’s see ‘em while it’s cheap.”

Jensen doesn’t egg her on more, because his eyes are glued to the contents of the overnight package. He’s read the handwritten note that’s tacked to a manila envelope once already, but he has to keep going over the words to really believe that they’re there.

_A little thank you for taking me a long way  
Jared_

His thumb draws a slow line over the words, stalling atop Jared’s name. He hears it all the time, especially among his basketball-obsessed coworkers, but this is different. It reminds him of the times when they got along and when they did so _very well_. In the grand scheme of things, he’s sure that week will seem like a mini vacation if, and when, he glances back at it. And for Jared, it can’t be more than a blip on the radar. But there’s something exhilarating about receiving this note. 

“What is it?” Danneel asks, bumping at his hip. 

He fumbles the manila envelope open and when his fingers touch two plastic sleeves with red and black lanyards, he lifts an eyebrow. Pulling them out, he lets the passes dangle from his fingers and grins at her. “How’s this for live entertainment?”

“Oh, holy shit!” she yells. 

Two tickets to a luxury box at the United Center and a parking pass are at the bottom of the envelope, and these badges will get him into the locker room. Him and … someone else.

Breathlessly, she asks, “Are those what I think they are?”

Jensen glances over the tickets once more and licks his lips, somehow overcome with real excitement for a basketball game. He never thought he’d see the day again where this sport would get him going, but here it is, and he’s overcome with boyish enthusiasm. “If you think they’re Lexus Club seats for the All Star Game, then yes, they are _exactly_ what you think they are.”

“For Tomorrow? Get out!” she yells and shoves him. When she tries to reach for the lanyards, he pulls them out of reach and laughs, which makes her push him again. “C’mon, lemme see them! Who’re you taking?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he says airily as he turns away and inspects the passes again. There’s a yellow post-it stuck to one with block print that says to show up by 4pm and lists the private parking area the pass will give him access to. “Maybe Ronnie,” he mumbles. “For his birthday.”

Danneel smacks his back and then they’re laughing together, no matter who in the area notices. It dawns on him that there’s no one else he can really trust to bring with him that won’t side-eye him if there’s some sort of moment with Jared, that only she could understand what this gesture might possibly mean. 

“You keep abusing me and you’re at the bottom of my list,” he warns, holding the envelopes up high. 

When his scowl slips back into a broad smile, one that makes his cheeks burn, she shrieks and jumps onto his back with her arms tight around his neck.

Jensen stumbles with her weight, but she’s not too rough on him with her legs wrapped around his waist and finally nabbing one of the passes to inspect it. He leans towards the counter to keep them upright and lets her enthusiasm amp him up even more.

“He so wants you back,” she murmurs at his ear as she turns the pass over to look at the access pass illustrated with a picture of Jared in action from last season. 

“God, I haven’t been to a game in years. What the hell do people even wear in the box seats? Tuxes or some shit?” he jokes to cover the tension wracking his system.

She lets herself down and hipchecks him. “What’d you wear the last time you went to a game?”

“I was in high school,” he says flatly. “We layered as many red and black shirts as possible.”

Laughing, she hands the pass back, then flicks at his collar. “I think you wanna do the exact opposite to win back your man.”

His stomach spins at the thought, nerves tingling below the surface. Yeah, it could be Jared’s olive branch, but it could also just be good press to reward the physical therapist who saved one of Chicago’s hottest athletes from an untimely career death.


	4. Part 4

When he and Danneel approach security with their passes in their hands, he freezes. Last night, he dreamt of this moment, of them presenting their passes and the big burly man in the red security jacket telling them it’s all a joke, there’s no Jared Padalecki waiting for them, Jensen’s pathetic, and all his wishful thinking is about to be played on the jumbo screen inside the United Center.

Danneel elbowing him breaks him from the unpleasant memory of what he woke up from this morning. She gives him a strange look and waves her pass before she flashes it at the guard at the door. The burly, bald man, who looks nothing like the one in Jensen’s dream, but is equally intimidating, grunts at Jensen, rolls his eyes, and turns away. Apparently that was a _yes_ for entry. 

She tugs on Jensen’s arm as they coast through the cement-block-lined hallways, the underbelly of the Center, and come out to the bright lights of the main court. Her nails dig into his bare forearm just before she runs out to the three-point line and fakes a shot. 

Jensen laughs, then is lost in the euphoria of the empty arena, thousands of open seats, lights everywhere, and the beloved red and black Bulls logo at center court. He slowly steps onto the hardwood floor and relishes the creaks beneath his boots and the reflection of the lights above narrowing down until he reaches the tip-off ring. Memories of old flash through him, warm and pleasant, invigorating in a way they haven’t been in years. High school and college, long Saturdays playing ball, Sundays icing knees, and Monday through Thursday practices until he couldn’t stand and collapsed on the floor. 

He’s buried those thoughts down so low for years, shoveled dirt right over them every time he looked at Jared. But here, in the middle of where the action happens, Jensen can’t help but let the impending energy overwhelm him. 

Jensen is so lost, reminiscing a past youth, that he barely recognizes the voice calling out to him. He and Danneel spin around to see Matt walking onto the court from where they’d come. 

“Hey! Glad you could make it,” Matt says with his patented grin in place. 

Immediately, that one conversation from Jared’s kitchen runs through Jensen’s brain, followed by what happened after Matt had left. He holds those thoughts away, and reaches out to shake Matt’s hand. “Yeah, thanks to Jared for inviting us,” he replies, introduces Danneel, and takes a deep breath. He could be seconds from seeing Jared and ironing this whole matter out. Or failing pathetically.

“Oh, yeah, he agreed it’d be a great story. The All Star with his physical therapist in tow. All eyes are on him tonight for sure.”

Jensen feels a dip of something – his mind, his stomach, maybe his heart. Jared had agreed to bring Jensen in for a photo op and a story. 

Either it’s the friend in her, or the pure opportunist, but Danneel steps up and smirks at Matt, laying on the charm. “It’s a wonderful story. And you know, back at Athetlical, we’re all excited for Jared’s return. We’ve been watching his recovery through Jensen. We’re so luck, and happy, that Jared’s recovered.”

Matt gives her a good look-over while he smacks his gum, more than obvious in his appreciation of her tight jeans and low-cut shirt beneath a stylish leather jacket. “That’s awesome,” he smiles back. “So you guys are coworkers, huh?”

“Yeah, Danneel’s pretty good,” Jensen says with a light laugh, trying to work himself back into the conversation, just so he doesn’t have to remember that he’s just here for a story. At the very least, he and Danneel can enjoy the luxury box and a night of good basketball, Jared or no Jared. 

Popping his gum into his cheek, Matt keeps on smiling, and it’s pretty damn uncomfortable, really. “Friends? More?”

“No, just friends,” Danneel smirks back. 

“That’s awesome,” Matt replies with a small nod. 

Jensen snorts and puts his hand to Danneel’s back as he looks at Matt. “So, the note said to be here early?”

“Yes!” Matt says, claps his hands once, and motions for them to follow. “Right this way and we’ll get the formalities out of the way.”

As they trail back through the hallways, turning left when they had taken a right the first time, Matt’s rattling off facts about the building and namedropping like mad. Danneel and Jensen roll their eyes at one another, but Danneel’s also smiling at Matt when he turns towards her. Jensen’s going to give her some space to work her magic, because he’s certain that’s the only reason she’s putting up with Matt’s shtick.

Inside the locker room, half-dressed players move about their business, so many familiar faces Jensen’s mind can’t even keep track of them. He’s certain if he took the time, he could put names to them after watching enough Sportscenter at Jared’s and talking about the game through their sessions. He doesn’t care, though, because in little more than a minute, he can spot Jared’s head bowed from where he’s straddling a bench in front of lockers at the far end of the room. Like everyone else in the room, he’s got an All Star warm-up jacket on with his own Bulls logo across his chest and is dressed to play from the waist down with dark shorts, knee-high socks, and hi-tops.

From his profile, Jared’s whispering something to himself, with his eyes closed and hair slipping down into his face. From rote actions, he’s wrapping white tape around a few knuckles and popping his legs off the balls of his feet. He’s all jittery energy from the waist down even when his shoulders are set solidly and his fingers are spinning the tape perfectly, ending with a tear before moving onto his ring finger. 

That brace Jensen bought Jared in their final week, with the anti-moisture technology he couldn’t help but rattle on about the last time he saw Jared, is tucked around Jared’s shin, folded and ready to pulled up whenever he’s set to play. Somehow, it’s that stupid brace that sets Jensen off, because he’s remembering the quietly tense conversation in the ice bath, the last words they spoke to one another, and his mind is spinning far too fast for him to do anything but swallow down the sudden rush nerves. 

“Hey, Jay, buddy,” Matt calls out once they’re close, smacking Jared on the back a few times. “How’s my big man doing?” he says, obviously overcompensating and trying to psych Jared up. “You good? You’re lookin’ good, Jay. Lookin’ real good.”

“I’m good,” Jared chuckles quietly. “What’s going–” he starts, but words fall away in a mumble when his eyes tip up and find Jensen and Danneel just beyond Matt. 

Jensen might dream the small tilt of Jared’s lips, because there’s nothing but a controlled smiled and appreciation when Jared stands, shakes Jensen’s hand, and looks around the whole group. 

Jared’s pleasant and calm when he says, “Hey, good to see you again.”

“You, too,” Jensen smiles carefully, trying to not put too much into it. They share a long look that doesn’t change, but feels charged with awkward tension until Danneel lightly elbows him. 

“Hi, I’m Dani,” she says as she nudges herself closer and shakes Jared’s hand a little fast. “We work together at Athletical. I’m a physical therapist, too,” she grins, playing herself up and admiring all the players walking around the room. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jared grins toothily, eyes starting to zone in on Danneel’s bright smile and her more than ample assets, like he should to deflect anything else between them. Then he glances at Jensen with a strange look. “Danneel?”

Jensen holds his breath, waiting for Jared to have a negative response. Instead, Jared’s face smoothes out into something friendlier and less public. “Jensen’s told me a lot about you. Well, okay,” he chuckles lightly. “He’d talked about you just a few times. But it’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“You, too!” she replies happily. “Well, I mean, I knew your face, but to finally see it in person,” she starts to ramble, then clears her throat and sweetly smiles to cover the moment.

Laughing, Jensen bumps her shoulder and smirks at Jared. “I hear things are going well. Sounds like you’re having a great season and you’re knee’s good.”

Jared playfully smacks his leg and nods. “Yeah, it’s holding up.” He glances at Jensen in confusion. “Where’ve you been hearing about it? I though you didn’t …”

Jensen bites into his lip and chuckles as Danneel wears her nicest smile to encourage him. “Mostly at the clinic. Or from Danneel,” he admits. 

Before they can say more, Matt’s tugging a communications manager and photographer closer. “You guys ready? Just a quick shot and then we’ll let you two get up to your Lexus Box,” he says, like it’s going to be the best moment of their lives. 

Jared smacks his lips together and gives a short smile before turning to his locker. In a ceremonial manner, he presents a black Bulls track jacket to Jensen. As Jensen accepts it, wanting to be grateful for the gift, but also recognizing it’s the formality, flashes go off. 

The whole thing is stilted and official with Jared saying, “On behalf of the Chicago Bulls, and of course me,” he grins and nods. It’s so obviously fake given that Jensen knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a true smile, and he forces himself to breathe evenly so he doesn’t grow tenser through the moment. “Thank you so much, for all your hard work and your dedication. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Jensen nods, accepts it, and glances up to Jared to smile. But then he sees it: the small, grateful look in Jared’s eyes and the soft turn of his lips. Jensen’s breath catches at the sight, and when Jared nods, Jensen does his best to return the gentle smile in thanks. 

“Go ahead, put it on,” Matt insists. Once Jensen’s got the jacket on, Matt pushes Jared and Jensen together and steps back with a bright smile. “Cheese it up, guys.”

Near comically, they each take a deep breath and shuffle next to each other, and Jared rings his arm over Jensen’s shoulder as they smile for the camera. The communications lady asks for a quote on Jared, and Jensen chuckles before saying, “He was one hell of a patient.”

“That’s the best you got?” Jared asks with a laugh. 

“Yeah, try being more specific. And stand closer, pretend you like each other,” the woman insists. 

They scoot closer, and Jared’s palm closes over Jensen’s shoulder just as Jensen sets his hand to Jared’s lower back. Through Jared’s uniform and jacket, he can feel Jared’s heat, and it reminds him of that time on the massage table, kissing his way up Jared’s body, how easy and responsive Jared was under Jensen’s hands and mouth. 

He gulps and clears his throat to make way for words. “He was a hard worker. I mean, he is. We only dream of working with an athlete like Jared.” After a few shots are taken, he lets out, like he means it, because he really does, “He’s a great guy.”

Jared’s hand slowly clamps down on Jensen’s shoulder and slides down to grip his upper arm. Jensen feels the warmth travel like a phantom touch and to keep from shivering, he closes his fingers over the bend of Jared’s back. 

When the photographer’s done, Jared shifts away, but faces him and smiles tightly. Jensen’s not sure what he wants to say, there are so many thoughts trying to come through. 

Matt interrupts with a clap of his hands and grabs at Jared. “Alrighty, Jay, you’ve got half an hour with Carrie here and these two are gonna get up to their _Lexus Box_ and have a night on us,” and he pulls Jared away, rambling on about other planned photos and interviews. 

Jensen tampers down the disappointment and forces a smile to Danneel.

+++

They’re lounging in the padded seats in the second row in the box, resting their feet up on the chairs in front of them and drinking beers from the stash in the fridge in the corner. Jensen can’t deny it’s a great view of the court and they watch the arena fill up while music pounds through the sound system and an LCD TV hangs to their left with the pre-game show on WGN. 

They’ve got the box to themselves for most of the early moments of the game, until there’s a bark of a laugh behind them and Jensen hears a familiar little purr. “Jensen Ackles, physical therapist.”

Jensen chokes on his beer, and he and Danneel slowly turn to find Katie strutting through the box and around to the front row of seats. She smirks at them and tilts her head, long blonde hair flowing over her shoulder. 

“Hi. Katie,” Jensen says awkwardly. 

She keeps on smiling and nods, seemingly impressed. “I should _not_ be surprised you’re here.”

“Well, I am that you are,” he laughs oddly. 

“This is Jared’s box,” she points out. 

Jensen looks over his shoulder and even if the rest of the box remains empty, he asks, “Is anyone else joining us?”

Another sharp laugh and she plops down one seat over so she can sit and look at them. “I’m sure his family will.” She leans forward for Danneel’s hand. “Hi, I’m Katie. I’m a friend of Jared’s.”

“Danneel. Nice to meet you,” Danneel smiles easily. “I’m a friend of Jensen’s.”

Katie grins. “Oh, nice.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Not the same kind of friend.” 

“What?” Danneel asks while Katie laughs.

At Danneel’s confusion, Jensen explains, “Katie hangs around Jared’s. A lot.”

“I _am_ that kind of friend now,” she clarifies. “Don’t you worry you’re pretty little head.” She kicks her feet up to the counter in front of her and flips her hair over her back. “Seems Jared’s more interested in wallowing these days. Says he’s going the straight and narrow. Ironically so,” she adds thoughtfully. 

Jensen drinks down the last of his beer to avoid eye contact, from either Danneel or Katie.

+++

Surprisingly, Katie and Danneel hit it off, along with Jared’s family and a few other friends. Everyone in the box gets into the game even when it doesn’t mean a whole heck of a lot to the Bulls’ season. They cheer with good shots and get excited over fast breaks and hard dunks. Jensen even finds himself rising from his seat with the rest of the crowd when Jared swats the ball from mid-air then recovers it near the sidelines, races forward to beat out everyone on the Western Conference team, and slams it in the basket with two hands. 

It’s thrilling to hear and feel the arena burst with the theatrics on display by the All Stars. More so that it’s Chicago’s own Jared Padalecki leading the charge and Jensen’s witnessing the player at his best. Just as Jensen’s heard of the season thus far, Jared’s sharp on the court with quick hands and even quicker feet as he pounds the hardwood and lays on the thick defense to cover his man. 

But it comes to screeching halt when Jared chases an errant ball, bats it back in-bounds, and trips over the mess of photographers under the basket. He’s slow to move when he shifts to his side and obviously avoids the use of his right knee. 

The whole box is standing, but Jensen blocks everyone out. His heart is racing with his eyes right on Jared rolling to his left and getting up to one knee, but not the one he tore up in May. Jensen grabs at his chest, fingers gripping the track jacket he’s had on since their photo op, and when a few team trainers rush over to sidelines to help Jared up, Jensen’s ready to jump out of the box and join them, if only he weren’t all this way off the ground. 

The crowd’s antsy, mumbling with worry, but there’s a slow build of clapping and cheering when Jared’s up on his feet. He’s moving, sure, but he’s also limping to the bench to sit. The TV in the corner is barely heard over the noise of the arena – worried spectators and music pulsing through the time-out. 

Jensen’s about to come out of his skin with shock and worry. Danneel’s hand curls around his elbow and she’s murmuring that it seems okay. Jared’s family, too, starts sharing good thoughts that Jared’s just fine. He’s not sure if they’re just trying to comfort each other or actually telling the truth, because his body is tingling with fear that Jared’s ripped his knee apart again. And Christ, why he’s so scared for Jared, he can’t even comprehend right now. 

All he knows is he’s sweating, and he tears the track jacket off, dumping it into the seat beside him. Everyone sits down again, but he doesn’t look at anyone, not even when Danneel tries to tug him back to his seat. His eyes are still locked on Jared as the trainers bend his knee around, and even from up here, Jensen reads the wince on Jared’s face. Minutes later, Jared and the trainers rise and they lead him down the walkway into the crowd and back to the locker room. 

Jensen finds the TV immediately and tries to listen in on what the announcers are saying, but they don’t know much more than he does. 

Danneel slips her hand into his and squeezes. “I’m sure he’s okay,” she says lightly. 

He shakes her hand away and hops over the back of his seat, hauling out of the box. He’s rushing down walkways and down the escalators and racing through the main concourse. He finds a security guard, waves the pass still hanging around his neck, and gets direction to the locker room. Another guard in the cement hallway eyes him funny, but Jensen runs right past him. When Jensen finds the locker room, it’s mostly empty aside from assistants bustling around and cleaning up errant towels and Gatorade bottles. 

He hurries through to a side doorway to the trainers’ room where a few men in black polos and khakis are surrounding Jared on a table in the far corner, and Jensen stalls. He’s really not welcome here, pass or not, but he doesn’t care. Approaching slowly, he listens to the words they’re saying, how they’re directing Jared to move this way and that. More importantly, or worrying, he hears Jared grunt when his knee doesn’t agree with the movements. 

Jensen can feel his pulse pound at his temples and he’s sweating from the race down here. The words from the others in the room are fuzzy in his ears, but he finally tunes into what they’re saying.

“You should be good. Just a bad twist,” one guy says and another plants a bag of ice on Jared’s knee. 

“That’s awesome,” Jared groans. When the trainers are hovering and fussing with talks of MRIs and slings, he sighs. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?” the first guy asks.

“Five-point-four,” Jared smarts. 

Jensen chuckles, remembering when he’d said those numbers to Jared just after they’d blown each other on the table in Jared’s gym. When everyone turns to stare at him, he shrinks against the doorway.

“Hey, buddy,” the third guy says, suddenly angling Jensen toward the door. “You’re a little lost.”

“It’s okay,” Jared says. “Just … give us a minute?”

It takes some time for the room to clear, the trainers shooting Jensen and Jared each odd glances, but they’re left alone after some time. And it’s even longer for either of them to say something. 

It’s Jensen first. “How bad is it?”

Jared snorts and looks down as he shifts the bag of ice on his knee. “Not as bad as the last time.”

He slowly nears Jared. “A five-point-four?”

Laughing and dipping his head low, Jared’s hair comes down over his face. Jensen can still see a small blush. “I may have stolen that from someone.”

“You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that,” he jokes as he steps up to the table. Jared grants a small smile and Jensen asks, “Can I take a look?”

Jared’s lips curl into his patented seductive smirk. “At what?” 

It’s comforting to see this version of Jared slink out, and Jensen licks his lips and smirks. “Your knee first.”

He moves the ice away, but it’s obvious how he tenses when Jensen reaches for his knee, going stiff in his back and shoulders. 

Jensen carefully peels the black elastic brace down Jared’s shin and lightly holds his knee, tucking his fingers under and lightly rubbing his thumbs around the joints. He feels professionalism slip in and calm him a bit. He’s still nervous as hell and fearing any misstep with Jared, but Jared said he could stay, and Jensen’s willing to try to be helpful and supportive. “Where’s it hurt?”

Jared vaguely points to the top, inside area. “It’s sore all on the inside and then it’s, like, this piercing pain if I touch it.”

“Then don’t touch it.”

“Oh, you’re cute,” Jared says with a roll of his eyes.

Jensen smirks and pushes his thumbs into the sides of the knee cap to see how Jared reacts. Jared winces a little and shifts, but Jensen’s glad it’s not a more pronounced response. “You told those guys you were okay,” Jensen points out. 

“I wasn’t too freaked until you came in, really.”

Jensen focuses on assessing Jared’s knee so he doesn’t have to think about what Jared means. That Jared doesn’t want him in here, doesn’t want him doing this and being connected to his injury.

Jared lets out a slow yet noisy sigh. “Like I’m not that fucked up if you’re not looking at it,” he admits quietly. 

He lifts his eyes to Jared, but Jared’s watching Jensen’s hands, so Jensen gets back to seeking out what’s wrong with Jared’s knee. “So, are these the guys who said you were fine the first time around?”

“Yeah, they are,” he laughs nervously. “How bad is it?”

Jensen presses his fingers at different angles and holds his hand over the top of Jared’s knee while trying to bend it slightly up, then shifting it straight. Thankfully, he feels nothing off. He shoots Jared a small smile as he lightly rubs his palm over Jared’s knee. “Not too bad. You probably just smacked it on the floor.”

“Man, it feels like more than that,” he says shakily. “You sure?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

Jared chuckles. “Pretty sure. That don’t sound like a voice of confidence.”

“You’re fine,” Jensen insists. He trails his fingers over Jared’s vastus muscles, like he did so many times over the summer, massaging to loosen up the tension in his leg. 

Jared leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs and he shakes his head. “And at the fuckin’ All Star Game.”

“At least you’ve got a long weekend to rest it.”

Nodding, Jared bites into the corner of his mouth. “Silver lining.”

“Exactly,” Jensen agrees with a smile. “C’mere,” he says, as he nudges Jared’s leg to the side. He maneuvers Jared to sit at the edge of the table with his legs hanging over the side, and slowly lifts Jared’s calf to straighten his knee. “That feel okay?”

Jared sucks in a breath. “Yeah, just tight.”

Jensen squeezes at Jared’s lower thigh, fingers kneading, as he lets Jared’s leg back down. “You’re body’s all locked up and tense. Some more ice, and you’ll be fine.”

He immediately puts the ice back to his knee and twists his ankle around, smiling when it rolls easily. Back in July, that was impossible without some pain. “I remember back when I was a kid, my mom didn’t want me playing football. She said it was too physical.”

“At least they have pads.”

“That’s what I always said,” he laughs. 

Jensen nods and at a loss for anything to say, he mumbles as he nudges the bag of ice to the inside where Jared said it hurt. “I met your mom. Your dad, too. They’re both real nice.”

“In the booth? You guys having fun?”

“I was until someone got knocked on their ass.”

“Did you see me save that ball?” Jared argues.

Laughing, Jensen pats Jared’s good knee. “Yeah, you’re a real hero.”

Jared chuckles with him until they’re left in silence. The smile leaves his eyes and his lips set in a line, which betray the gentle way he says, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Thanks for the invite.”

“You really been listening about how I’m playing?”

“You’re the talk of the town,” Jensen answers, feeling nervous under Jared’s gaze. “It’s kinda hard to not hear it.”

“But you’re listening,” he says more than asks.

Quietly, Jensen replies, “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Padalecki?” one of the trainers calls from the doorway. “You good?”

Jared nods at him. “Think I just banged it on the floor.”

“You ready to get back out there?”

“Yeah, two seconds.” They both watch the guy walk back into the locker room, and Jared is already looking at Jensen when Jensen faces him. “Thanks for coming to check on me. However the fuck fast you got here.”

Jensen chuckles and bites his lip as he glances around the room. He’s seen the inside of rooms like this before, but this moment is so different from those times. Seeing Jared like this is far different, too. “Your security team’s probably got my face plastered in every hallway.”

Jared swipes the back of his knuckles at Jensen’s temple, clearing away the last bits of sweat still dotting his face. 

“Jared, I-”

“You okay, Jay?” Matt asks as he rushes into the room.

Jared rolls his eyes. “Ten minutes later.”

Jensen steps back as Jared and Matt start to bicker over the agent’s reaction time and Jared’s knee and then why Jared’s still in the trainers’ room if he’s okay. It’s not uncomfortable, like the first time he watched them in Jared’s kitchen, but Jensen’s well aware he’s past his welcome. Jared’s putting the ice to the side and tugging his brace into place, and Jensen sees it as his cue to leave. 

He takes his time returning to the luxury box, cursing the fact that the last time he’ll see Jared face to face will be in that room, with no apologies from either side and nothing spoken of the summer they’d spent together. Gossip says at the end of this season, Jared’s leaving town for the best offer – and there are plenty on the table – making any hope for trying with Jared disintegrate completely.

By the time he makes it back to his seat, the final minutes are counting down the clock. Everyone’s reasonably calmed, especially with Jared back on the bench, and by Danneel’s account, he’d been walking easily when he came back out to the court. He’s comforted by it, and strangely enough, he’s feeling settled by the time spent in the trainers’ room. That Jared let him check his knee and was loose and easy to talk to. There’s still a sharp feeling in his chest that he reacted the way he did, rushing down there like a lunatic. Luckily, there’s more cheer among those in the box for Jensen’s heroics and dedication to their son, brother, and friend than confusion or mocking. 

On the way through the main concourse after the game, Jensen’s phone buzzes and it’s a text from Jared. 

_You still have my key right?_

Jensen tenses as he reads the words a few times, because he absolutely does and feels guilty for having hung onto it all this time. He fumbles with the buttons on his phone, but finally responds. _I can drop it off._

There isn’t a response until they’re in the parking lot, and it’s a simple _Ok_

“Good news?” Danneel asks, smiling over the top of Jensen’s car. 

“He wants his key back,” he says, lifting his eyebrows skeptically. 

She frowns, and he tries to ignore the way she brushes her hand over his in the car.

+++

It’s nearly two hours later, after dropping Danneel off, that he’s at Jared’s. The entire house is dark and Jensen figures Jared’s out for the night with post-game celebrations, given the amount of hot shot players in town. He lets himself in and spins the key off his ring. He’s setting it on a cabinet near the stairs when he swears he hears something on the second floor, and he takes a few steps and waits to hear more. There’re no other noises, so he walks back down, boots cracking on the hard wood. 

“Jensen?” Jared calls from upstairs. 

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Just leaving the key down here. Sorry I kept it so long. Kinda forgot for a-”

He stops when a light comes on at the landing and he finds Jared standing at the top of the stairs. He’s in track pants and a dark tank top, hair damp and flipping at the ends, with his fingers curling around the banister. “I didn’t really mean for you to return it.”

“I could’ve mailed it, I guess,” he mumbles like a question. 

Jared chuckles and shakes his head. “You said you were gonna look at my knee first. What comes after that?”

Jensen stares up at him, taking in the way Jared leans forward and grips the banister tighter. His shoulders roll with the movement and his muscles bulge obscenely. Jensen clears his throat and pathetically says, “Oh.”

“Oh,” Jared smirks. “Yeah.”

He takes the first few steps, hand crawling up the railing as he moves. “Really?”

“If you want to,” he says. It’s almost smug, except Jensen can read a bit of hesitation when Jared tips his head to the side. 

Jensen moves up a few more steps. “_You_ want to?”

Jared releases a loud breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, I want you to want to.”

The rest of the stairs are taken slowly, because Jensen can’t help drawing out the way Jared inches his way towards the steps, like he’s set to meet Jensen the second he’s made the top. 

“Are you really leaving after this season?” Jensen asks before he can think better of it.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s what everyone says.”

“You’re reading too many papers,” Jared smirks. 

“It’s just things I hear,” Jensen shrugs when he reaches the top stairs. 

Jared murmurs, “Stop listening to them,” then pulls Jensen in with a strong hand around his neck, kissing immediately.

Jensen runs his hands up Jared’s sides, feeling the bulk of muscles beneath thin cotton and taut skin. He groans into Jared’s mouth at the mold of Jared’s body, not to mention the immediate curl of Jared’s tongue around his own. When he takes a deep breath, he can smell the fresh scent of Jared’s shower, shampoo mixing with soap and the underlying scent of Jared he didn’t realize he’d been missing. It is so damned good to get that smell in his nose, the touch of Jared’s hard body around him, the sound of Jared’s harsh breathing, to remember it all deep in his senses. 

With arms wrapped around Jensen’s shoulders, Jared pulls them down the hall and to his bedroom. On the way, Jensen mumbles between kisses, “How’s your knee?”

“Stop worrying,” Jared laughs. 

“I’m a professional,” he says with a nip to the corner of Jared’s mouth. “First and foremost.”

Once inside the bedroom, Jared pushes his hands inside Jensen’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. “I ever tell you how hot that is.”

“Once or twice,” he smirks and tugs at the end of Jared’s tank top. 

They fight to get clothes off, Jensen grabbing for Jared’s as Jared tries to get Jensen out of his. Jared distracts him by yanking Jensen’s shirt up and mouthing across his chest, laving at his nipple and forcing the shirt all the way up over his face. He gets Jensen’s pants unbuttoned as Jensen reaches for the waist band of Jared’s pants, but Jared’s mouth is doing wonders, and he can hardly concentrate. Finally, he grips at the sides of the pants and just yanks, ripping the side snaps open, and Jared laughs as he pulls away and grins at Jensen.

Jared pushes Jensen’s pants down, sits at the edge of the bed, and tugs at Jensen’s boot laces until Jensen kicks them off along with his jeans, leaving them both in their underwear. Jared teases with his fingers dipping just beneath the band of Jensen’s boxer briefs, running along the elastic then pulling Jensen down with him. He turns them over, straddles Jensen’s hips, and drops down to Jensen’s mouth. It’s a wide, open kiss that Jensen handily returns as he paws at Jared’s shoulders until he gets a good grip and forces them over. 

As he settles atop Jared, he murmurs, “Stay off your knee,” and kisses up Jared’s neck. 

“This is gonna be no fun if you’re putting restrictions on me.”

“We always found ways to have fun before,” Jensen smirks. 

“Yeah, we did. Didn’t we?” he asks as he tries to flip them again, but Jensen bears down on Jared’s waist.

“Just, humor me?”

“You are too paranoid,” he groans and pushes his head into the mattress. 

“Am not. Just careful,” he insists, running his hands up Jared’s chest, kneading into the muscles. He slides his hand up Jared’s neck, cups his face, and thumbs over his bottom lip. When Jared sucks at the tip, Jensen feels a tingle run up his arm and down his chest, burrowing low in his belly. He grinds down on Jared, their dicks pressing together, hard and hot. 

Jared pushes up to Jensen and moans, and it vibrates through Jensen’s hand again, forcing him to start moving into Jared at a steady pace. Jensen tucks a foot beneath Jared’s knee, propping it up as he gets restless with their movements, and Jared groans, but it’s not excited, Jensen can tell.

“Jensen, seriously,” he laughs, annoyed. “You’re ruining this.”

Sighing with both amusement and frustration, Jensen sits back and holds at Jared’s waist, rubbing circles into the dip of his hips. “Okay, sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll try.”

Laughing again, this time in mocking, “You promise you’ll try?”

Jensen runs his hands over Jared’s chest again and lowers his voice, aiming for something dark. “I just don’t wanna mess up this body.”

“All the while, I’ve wanted you to use it up.”

He groans with Jared’s words running right through his system. He’d love to use Jared, turn him over, fuck him into the mattress, do all the things he’s imagined and ignored in favor for Jared’s recovery. It’s a long-standing image that he’s fought to forget, but like Jared, that ain’t easy. 

“Okay, you gotta say if it hurts,” Jensen insists.

“I kinda want it to hurt,” he smirks.

“God, you’re difficult,” Jensen groans.

“I’m incredibly easy, but you’re _ruining it_.”

Fine, Jensen tells himself, and he feels heat flare at the decision to throw caution the fucking wind. He moves off of Jared, flips him over, and yanks his briefs down to show off his incredibly tight and solid ass. 

“God, that’s it,” Jared groans, shifting his knees wider. 

He licks into the crack of Jared’s ass, ringing his tongue around his hole, and pushing saliva deep into it as he tongues against the rim. He hears and _feels_ Jared’s whimper, his hole clenching around Jensen’s tongue, but he just keeps pressing in tight, licking, and sucking at him. Jared rocks back into Jensen’s face as Jensen fucks his tongue in and out at a regular pace. He pulls Jared’s cheeks wide and laps all around Jared’s ass, wetting his hole obscenely. On a huge gulp of air, Jensen pushes his fingertip inside, relishing the tight ring that seems to suck him right in. 

“Jesus, Jen, just do it. Been too long,” Jared mumbles, rocking back on Jensen’s finger. 

Jensen shifts with his arm resting over the crest of Jared’s ass, finger still tucked in tight, and he gets back in to lick as he slowly pushes his finger in deeper. Jared’s groaning for more, and Jensen shushes him then gently bites at the round flesh of his ass. 

“Where’s your stuff?”

Jared huffs a laugh. “In the drawer over there,” he mumbles, pointing to the left side of the bed. 

Jensen licks around his finger, still pulling at Jared’s rim. “I really don’t wanna stop, you have no clue.”

“I think I have a few clues.”

He laughs against Jared’s ass, air puffing inside the hole and making Jared keen. At Jared’s broken sounds, Jensen sighs. “God, Jared, you just …”

“I just what?”

Jensen licks up Jared’s crack, finger sliding slowly in and out. “You were so hot tonight. Wanted to mess you up in that locker room.”

Jared groans and pushes himself back into Jensen’s mouth and hand. “I so would’ve let you.”

His only reply is to push his finger in further and push against Jared’s inner walls. 

With a worn-out sigh, Jared pulls forward, turning to his back and shuffling to the bedside table. As he gets lube and a condom, Jensen follows him up the bed to tug Jared’s briefs all the way down and off. 

Jensen bends Jared’s right knee and pushes it up to his chest, leaning with it, like all the times they did before. This time, like he’d always imagined, he shifts to let his dick rub over Jared’s hole. 

“Fuck you and wait,” Jared moans with a crooked smile. 

He laughs and pushes in closer to kiss. “Maybe in the morning, if your knee’s up to it.”

Tossing the things to his side, Jared pulls Jensen in. “Oh, I’m gonna be up for it,” he mumbles at Jensen’s lips before shoving his tongue inside. 

Jensen’s so taken with the fire in Jared’s kiss, he doesn’t realize they’ve turned over again until his back smacks the mattress. In one swift move, Jared rips Jensen’s boxer briefs down his legs, and Jensen has to breathe out hard to stop himself from mauling Jared. Last year, they’d traded a few blow jobs, had drawn-out kisses, but not this. He hadn’t seen all of Jared from head to toe, and Jared hadn’t laid him bare on his bed. It’s too much and yet not enough if they don’t get to fucking soon. 

Jared leans over Jensen, face dropped close, and he smirks. “How you doing there, doc?”

He slips his hand into Jared’s hair and twines the strands tightly around his fingers before hauling Jared in to take over his mouth, all wet lips and insistent tongue. He can feel Jared’s groan deep into his teeth, rattling around his head and sliding down his spine. Jensen tugs at Jared’s hair then grips tight at his neck and shifts them over again. He settles between Jared’s legs and shoves his hips down to Jared’s, relishing the sounds Jared makes and the way their skin slides together. 

He’s overwhelmed by the miles of tan skin before him, by the thought that Jared has had any number of women in his bed to satisfy him, but there’s been none since they were together. And more so, that for all the times Jared could get off, he wants Jensen to do it for him, to take him completely. 

Sitting back, Jensen’s hands tremble as reaches for the lube and makes a show of dripping it all over his fingers from up high. When he pushes Jared’s leg up to his chest again, Jared sharply inhales and Jensen smiles, trying to remember how they got along all those months ago. All banter and lazy smirks. “Trust me. I’m a professional.”

Jared laughs with a long rumbling noise that shakes his body as he tips his head back to the pillows and lets his limbs go slack. There’s a hitch in his breathing when Jensen pushes his finger clear in, Jared’s hole all wet with saliva and lube. 

Getting two in is a bit slower, and Jared’s body tightens up with the stretch, but a few seconds pass and he loosens up again. Jensen slides his fingers in and out slowly, watching how Jared takes them, and he doubts he has the patience to wait long enough to do this properly, wanting to just jack off right here and be done, get past the need to hold back. 

“For the record,” Jared grits out. “In the morning, I’m totally gonna taunt you like this.”

“Can’t wait,” Jensen smirks. He rubs over Jared’s shin even as he nudges it tighter against Jared’s chest. “You ready?”

“Been ready for a long time,” Jared replies, eyeing Jensen seriously before his lips tip into a teasing smile. 

Jensen shuffles closer on his knees and gets to the condom, rolling it down and slicking himself up with lube. “So, how long’s it been?” he asks levelly, even though he’s sure he couldn’t bite off this smile if he tried. 

“A while. Not since,” Jared replies, nodding at him. 

He understands, and while the thought does the good kind of bad things to his brain and stomach and dick, turning him all over himself, it’s not what he meant. “How long since you’ve been properly fucked?”

Jared sighs, rolls his eyes back, and spreads his legs wider. “Gimme your best shot.”

Resting his palm solidly on Jared’s abdomen, Jensen guides his dick against Jared’s hole. Stupidly, he stops and thinks, feeling his heart stutter with the thought that they haven’t seen each other for months, nearly five, and here they are like this. A year ago, he didn’t give a shit about Jared Padalecki, and now he’s sure he’s going to come out of his skin the second he gets inside Jared. 

Hanging his head, staring at the way Jared pulls him in and stretches with him, Jensen holds his breath and slowly pushes in until he’s hips to ass. Jared is incredibly tight like impossible suction, so warm and wet. Jensen can’t move, in or out, has to just stay there tucked tight inside. If he slides even an inch, this whole thing is over.

Jared groans and tips his hips forward, making Jensen whimper and clamp his fingers around Jared’s hips as he catches his breath. 

“Just, hang on,” Jensen mutters.

One more groan and then Jared squeezes his hole around Jensen’s dick, grinning at him the whole time. 

“Oh, you asshole,” Jensen breathes out, starting to laugh. He pushes Jared’s leg to his chest and slowly rocks back and forth, keeping Jared wide and nearly immobile as he leans against him, planting his other hand on Jared’s shoulder to get a better angle. 

Jared starts to grind words out, grabbing at Jensen’s neck and back and forcibly pulling Jensen closer as they slide together. Jensen can’t keep track of what’s said between them, only knows that it’s unbearably difficult to concentrate when he is in Jared, has Jared all around him, has his voice in his ears. 

He’s not sure how long they last, but they eventually fall apart, Jared coming with a hand on his own dick and Jensen fucking him through it.

Jensen lets Jared’s leg fall away to the side, but keeps his hand loose around Jared’s shin. His other is still planted in the mattress beside Jared’s head, and his head hangs just above Jared’s face. Jared’s hand slips from Jensen’s neck, slapping against his sweaty chest where it lands. 

Heavily breathing, Jensen barely stays where he is. He wants to collapse onto Jared, let his elbow go, and avoid the reality of what’s to happen next. Jared has a long weekend then an even longer road trip, he’s heard that much throughout the night. Jared will be back in the limelight at a breakneck pace of being a professional athlete at the top of his career despite the knee that brought them together.

Thinking of that, Jensen rubs his thumb over Jared’s knee. “How’s it feel?”

“And now you expect me to speak,” he mumbles.

Jensen chuckles, cants his hips back to slide out, then shifts to his left and drops to his back. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jared stretching his leg out, palm covering the knee as he bends and straightens it. Jensen sets his cheek to the mattress and tries to find sight of any pain in Jared, and Jared catches him.

“It’s fine. I feel incredibly loose,” Jared insists. He smiles and turns to his side to watch Jensen, cradling his head with a smashed pillow. “You truly are a master of the body.” Jensen laughs and reaches out to smack Jared’s stomach, but Jared catches his hand and threads their fingers. “No lie. You really do deserve a doctorate for knowing how to work the human muscles, mine in particular.”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen pushes at Jared’s stomach with both their hands, then pulls them to settle on his own chest, unwilling to part with the touch of Jared’s palm pressed to his, heat and sweat and a phantom pulse still thrumming steadily. 

“You staying?” Jared asks. “I can do breakfast in the morning and maybe you’ll let me test my knee for good.”

“Do you _do_ breakfast?” 

“On occasion. I make a mean burnt toast.”

Jensen laughs. “Maybe we go out for eggs.”

“Maybe I’ll call Katie,” he says thoughtfully.

“Um, no, please no.”

“She makes a mean omelet,” Jared insists. At Jensen’s odd look, he goes on, “We’ve modified our arrangement. She cooks and I eat. I couldn’t just lay her off completely.”

“Really?”

“She’s been around for a long time. I didn’t want to just let a good girl go.”

Jensen furrows his brow and purses his lips. “This is a very odd conversation.”

“At least we’re having one.”

A long look at Jared is more than enough for Jensen to nod in agreement.

Jared smirks and thumbs over Jensen’s palm. “So you thought I was hot on the court?”

“There’s something to be said for athletic competency.”

“Especially for a physical therapist.”

Jensen nods and carefully smiles, feeling the same memories from the United Center creep up. “I used to play,” he admits. “So yeah, I appreciate a good zone defense.”

“Really?” Jared asks, voice going high with interest. He grins and shifts closer. “Were you any good?”

“I thought I was. A few scouts, too.”

“What happened?”

Jensen shrugs and stares at the ceiling. “Not everything works out the way you want it.”

Jared shifts over Jensen with a soft smile. “Yeah, but some things do.”

Before Jared can say more, Jensen pulls him down to kiss.

+++

There is breakfast in the form of cereal. 

Jensen’s seated atop the island in the kitchen, just his boxer briefs on, a bowl in his lap, a spoonful of milk and flakes in his left hand, and the box of Wheaties in his other. 

“Do you get supercharged staring at your face while you eat breakfast?” Jensen asks flatly. He keeps staring at All Star Jared mid-dunk on the front of the orange cereal box. 

Jared’s standing next to him, facing the island, and chewing sloppily. He nods as he keeps chewing, looking a bit smug despite the mush between his teeth. Despite that, Jared’s incredibly tempting with the mess of his hair, a hint of scruff coming in, and just a pair of red netted shorts hanging low on his hips, showing off all his tan skin and the fact that there’s nothing underneath. 

Of all the scenes starring Jared that have played through Jensen’s mind, this is not one of them, but he’s pleasantly surprised by it anyway. It’s far more comfortable than anything he’d imagined they would share, easy and casual as they stand side-by-side, Jared bringing his bowl up to his lips and slurping down the extra milk. 

Jensen stares at him well aware there’s a tiny, amazed smile working its way on his face. Even when Jared looks at Jensen and shoves his tongue around his mouth as he tries to clear any remaining cereal from his teeth. Jared smacks his tongue to the top of his mouth and looks beyond tired, especially with the way his hair is mismanaged with random strands swept across his forehead.

Somehow, Jensen doesn’t care, and he ignores any red alarms as to what could go wrong after this or how he’s falling too deep after months of radio silence. 

When Jared sets his hand over Jensen’s knee and rubs across his lower thigh, fingers grazing over a tangle of skin Jensen likes to forget about from time to time, he doesn’t flinch like he usually does. 

“Never noticed this before,” Jared says. “Not ‘til last night.”

“Yeah,” Jensen replies lamely, because for all the times he’d been in shorts in the tub, they’d been busy enough with Jared’s treatments to never broach any real subjects. 

“Can I ask?”

“You just did,” Jensen nods. 

Jared presses his thumb against the scar and snorts. “That’s cute.”

Jensen covers Jared’s hand, as if that hides it, even when he’s about to lay it all out like he hasn’t in years. There’s a tingling need to share it with Jared after beginning to open up last night, he can feel it slinking up on him. “The reason I never got past college ball. Had surgery and here I am,” he says quickly, even when he knows Jared will prod, and he will respond.

“What happened?”

Jared sounds quiet, and concerned, and Jensen’s only a little surprised. “Right before March Madness, I took a nasty spin and tore up my ACL. They had to reconstruct the whole thing.”

The wince Jared’s got is obvious and genuine, which makes Jensen smile a little. 

“Took almost a year until I was fully upright. Trainers and my coach said I might not ever be fully mobile again.”

“But you are,” Jared points out.

Jensen nods slowly. “Physical therapy was a life changer. Literally.”

Jared smiles a little. “That’s why you do it.”

He nods again, smiling along with Jared. “I mean, fully mobile to college ball is different to being up on your feet and living, but yeah. By the end of the year I was playing again. Just pick up games, and whatever. I wasn’t totally lost. It felt good for a few months, but I also knew it wouldn’t be the same. A lot of other people knew that, too.”

Beneath Jensen’s hand, Jared’s thumb strokes over the fumbled line as he watches it move slowly across the now-minor blip on above his knee. “You’re bitterness is misplaced, my friend.”

Jensen knows it. He’s well aware he told Jared he was bitter over the Bulls deconstructing after a banner decade when it wasn’t the whole truth. “Just my lies are.”

Jared picks his head up and his eyes skate over Jensen’s face. “Where else did you misplace your lies?”

“With us,” he admits. “When I thought there was no chance.”

“There’s always a chance,” Jared says, in that typical bravado and with that trademark smirk. 

“I’m figuring that out.”

+++

In the passing weeks, months more like it, Jensen figures out a few more things. In between the Bulls’ schedule, there _is_ time to see Jared. It’s nothing like traditional dating. They can’t go out and just be together, though they try to hit up local restaurants and bars to breathe fresh air and exist. But they spend a hell of a lot of time at Jared’s, and Jensen doesn’t seek out the space to mind. 

There are more games watched from that luxury box with Danneel and even Chris in tow, and nights spent at Jared’s alone. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into the schedule of a few days in town, more spent on the road. It works, somehow, and Jensen doesn’t bother questioning it. Not even when he feels like he’s living a second life outside the clinic and his late night dinners alone while Jared’s off pounding the hardwood and doing his best to smash fiberglass backboards. 

Especially in his backyard at any hour. 

Jared tosses the ball Jensen’s way, and he catches it easily. Sets his toes behind the three-point line, lit up by the outdoor lights across Jared’s backyard as the night goes on. Jensen pulls the ball back near his head, jumps into the air, and pushes his arms forward. It’s all muscle memory, even from ten, fifteen years back, and his fingers skate thin air when he shoots the ball, visualizing nothing but net as he drops back down to the suspension subsurface of the outdoor court.

The ball coasts through the air, turning over itself as it sails down to the basket. There’s a distinct ding of it smacking the rim and bouncing off to the side followed by Jared’s cackle.

“You are awful,” Jared shouts as he chases the ball down and dribbles it back to middle court. He nails a jump shot like so many aired on national television and jogs over to retrieve it. 

“Been a little while,” Jensen grumbles. He rolls his shoulders and his head around to crack his neck and watches Jared dribble seamlessly to the left side of the court and hit a three pointer. 

“You must’ve been an awful point guard.” Jared grins and passes the ball to Jensen

“Who says I was a guard?” He dribbles a few feet forward and finally makes a clean shot.

“You’re a little short, doc,” Jared replies as he again shoots from behind the line and the ball _whooshes_ through the net.

Jensen sets his hands on his hips and watches Jared drift around the three-point border. It’s not so bad to see Jared work his magic on the court, but that’s not the point. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

“I don’t know,” he whines in return. “We’ve got two games in Detroit and then two at home.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Jared goes around the court, hitting shot after shot, resolutely ignoring Jensen. The team’s in the playoffs thanks to their second place finish in their division and surviving the first round against Cleveland 4-2. But talk still surrounds Jared as to his future beyond the post-season. 

“Well, I’m not thinking that far head,” Jared insists, running a rare missed shot in for a layup.

“Are you even thinking?” he jokes. He knows he’s pestering, but he’s been quiet enough amid the swirl of gossip in the papers and on any news broadcast. Things have been good between them, easy even, yet Jensen’s figuring Jared’s got to look out for his future more than he does what they’ve got here. 

“I’m thinking about my jump shot,” Jared replies as he hits another one.

After three more shots, Jensen laughs to himself. “You gonna hog the ball or what?”

“Whatever it takes to ignore you and your inquisition right now.”

“That’s a big word.” He rushes in front of Jared, blocking with defense he’d learned back when he was young and spry and only dreamed of playing in front of any crowd. 

Jared spins, bumping his back into Jensen’s chest, and shoves backward as he dribbles easily. “I got another big thing we could talk about.”

There shouldn’t be anything sexual in their contact. It’s the typical rub of players on the court that Jared deals with daily through hours of practice and 60 minutes of official play. But it’s always different with Jared. Jensen’s known that since day one, no matter how hard he ignored it. 

Spinning forward, Jared steps left and pivots right. The move is simple yet poetic when he lifts off the ground and flicks the ball off his fingers, right over Jensen’s outstretched hands. The ball smacks the board right in the center of the box and sinks into the net. Jared smirks at Jensen and tips his head thoughtfully, staring for a few seconds. “When I decide, you’ll be, like, the ninth to know.”

Counting Matt and a handful of management on either end, Jensen figures nine is a pretty good number. 

“You’re so kind,” he jokes anyway. 

“I do try,” Jared nods. 

“You ready for a shower?”

It’s not terribly warm for late April, but Jared’s got a fine sheen of sweat coating his arms and face, starting to seep into his grey tee. “I really need one?”

Jensen tugs at the seam of Jared’s shirt, drags a few fingers over Jared’s hip, and lifts an eyebrow. “No, but it sure couldn’t hurt.”

+++

Jensen’s in the break room when the news hits. He’s sifting through a file, updating notes from a week ago on a high school football player who’s got a bum shoulder after playing a long Saturday of flag football at a local park. 

His coworkers crowd into the room and Danneel flicks on the TV as Kristen stands by with a ridiculously complicated Excel spreadsheet documenting dates, times, and team names. She keeps checking her watch and crossing off boxes that designate the passing minutes until the press conference starts, and other coworkers hover over her work. 

There’s a long table on screen, a few men in suits shuffling into seats, but Jensen couldn’t really give a shit, beyond taking the scene for the amusement that it is.

At 10:07 am, a voice breaks through the speakers with an announcement that lights the room up into excited yells and chatter. 

Jensen smirks a little, but only grants a passing glance to the men on screen and the people around him.

“Okay, seven minutes after,” Kristen announces. 

There’s a mix of complaints and hushed wonder as they consult her spreadsheet until she groans and turns around to glare at him. “10:07 and he stays,” she reads from the sheet and purses her lips. “You’re a douchebag.”

“It’s been said,” Jensen replies with a smooth smile.

“Two forty,” she says, counting out a handful of bills. “How do you do this every time?”

Jensen puts his hand out with his fingers wagging at her.

She rolls her eyes as she hands over the money. “I hate you.”

“You should, if you knew my connections.”

Some return to work while a handful stay behind to watch Jared field questions from the press in the room. 

Danneel drops into the seat next to him and kicks the leg of his own chair. “You’re a dirty cheater.”

Jensen flips the bills into place as he counts the money. “Hey, she begged me to play.”

“Still. Totally unfair.” She goes so far as to pout and cross her arms. 

He slides a twenty across the table and smirks. “Just think of all the Lexus Club trips we’re gonna take.”

She grabs the bill off the table, her bet into the pool, and stuffs it into her back pocket. “You’re totally unattractive when you’re smug. Just so you’re aware.”

“I don’t know. Jared seems to like it.”

“He would,” she says, rolling her eyes and getting up to leave.

With only a few stragglers left in the room, he pulls his cell out and texts Jared. _$220. Dinner’s on me._

It takes a few hours for Jared to reply. Jensen figures it’s a _pretty_ busy day for him. _You play dirty doc_

_Stop acting like you don’t like it a lil dirty._

_Never have, never will_


	5. Timestamp: The Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp, set in the next year or two after the original story. The NBA comes off their strike, meaning things can finally go back to normal for them.

It takes a few seconds for Jensen to tell Jared’s house is empty when he stops by after his late shift. He dumps his jacket over the back of the sofa in the living room then looks around hesitantly, training his ears to any sounds.

Most lights are off and not a single TV can be heard from any of the five rooms that has one. He had figured Jared would be moving between the screens, alternating between listening and mocking reporters and commentators discussing the fact that the NBA lockout is over and teams are reporting for duty as soon as possible.

But no, that’s not what Jared’s doing at all, because Jensen’s drawn to the back patio doors. Just beyond them he can hear then see Jared dribbling a ball around the court, between his legs, around his hips, high, then low, as he jogs between the hoops at either end of the court. One spotlight barely lights up the area, but Jensen can tell that Jared’s working his ass off, sweating through his long-sleeve shirt, and hustling as he moves despite the cool, late-fall temperatures of Chicago.

The ball pounding on the specialty pavement is constant, breaking only for Jared to shoot from behind the three-point line, or to run the ball in for a layup.

It’s too chilly outside, especially when Jensen’s still in his work attire - short sleeve polo doing little to keep him warm. He steps outside and grabs a Bulls hoodie off the chaise lounger on the deck, one Jared must have left behind once he got outside, hot like a furnace, as always.

The sweatshirt keeps Jensen a bit warm. It’s soft with a nice, thick cotton of the highest brand. Jensen’s not quite swimming in it, though it is a bit large and hangs low, definitely fit for a basketball player with Jared’s stature. That sends a small jolt through Jensen’s body, instantly warming him up for an entirely different reason, especially when he watches Jared race to the hoop, jump high, and slam the ball into the basket with his fingers gripping tight on the rim.

The thin cotton sleeves of Jared’s shirt do little to hide the thick bulge of his biceps as he hangs from the rim for a few extra seconds, groaning as he attempts to lift his knees in a modified pull-up, and then drops to his feet.

Jared uses both hands to comb hair back and look around for the ball he’s lost track of, but he finds Jensen instead.

“A little cold out here, don’t you think?” Jensen says with a small smile.

Matching Jensen’s smile, Jared tips his head. “Are you babying me again?”

“Just an observation,” Jensen insists. When he notices that Jared’s feet are fidgeting, knees, too, and his fingers keep twitching, Jensen lifts his eyebrow as he obviously stares at the movements.

“I have a lot of nervous energy,” Jared admits in his most childish, whiny voice.

“How so?”

“The season’s on now, and I’m fucking rusty ...”

“And excited,” Jensen finishes dryly.

Jared moves across the court to recover his ball and Jensen wonders if it’s his own way to deflect from the conversation. “Maybe a little,” Jared agrees awkwardly, only to cover up with, “I mean, it’s my job, not that I don’t like being here with you all the time, but I-”

Jensen laughs and puts his hand up to stop him. “Don’t even. It’s fine.”

Surprisingly, it really is. They’d spent the summer following Jared’s All Star year, the one that brought them back together, always hanging around. Jared’s house, Jensen’s apartment, wherever, they were constantly making time for each other because Jared was free - training and practicing during the day while Jensen worked. It only really meshed for a month or so, until they started to get too much face time and all the little ticks came out and forced them to grit teeth and passive aggressively fight on occasion.

The players’ lockout didn’t help at all, pushing Jared into antsy and bored, slightly over-entitled, cocky territory while Jensen sat around rolling his eyes. Sure, it’s Jared’s career, and he wants to be paid a pretty penny, and wants to just freaking play like he’s supposed to, Jensen got that. But he also got to the point where he just wanted someone to cave in during arbitration so Jared could get out of the house and on the road to give them some space. Because all that _quality time_ became more like _quantity_: far too much.

Jensen figures it happens to any couple once they fall into routine. He also figures all the make-up sex has been worth every petty second.

And at that thought, Jensen shoots Jared a low-lidded look and purses his lips. “All this nevous energy, huh?”

“Yeah?” Jared asks slowly, as if he’s not quite getting the point.

“I can think of a few other ways to handle it.”

“If you say cleaning, I’m gonna pelt you in the face with this ball.”

“Well, that’s real mature,” Jensen replies as he steps closer to Jared. When he’s standing right in front of him, he takes a moment to look over Jared. He starts with the muscular bulk of Jared’s calf up to his hips jutting out from the navy netted shorts, up to his broad shoulder, across to the other, and back down like he’s assessing Jared’s physical net worth.

Jensen would say it’s pretty damn high.

“Oh, right, that” Jared suddenly says, and Jensen has to remind himself of all the time it took them to get it right. That despite Jared’s forward come-ons, once Jensen turned around and noticed, it took a little for Jared to really accept the opportunity.

“Yeah,” Jensen says as darkly as possible, but he’s sure he’s starting to smile and chuckle. “That.”

“C’mon then!” Jared exclaims as he hops around Jensen. He smacks Jensen’s ass then runs towards the house.

Jared’s a professional athlete, sure, but Jensen’s no slouch, and he immediately turns the jets on and races after him. Jensen is so quick, in fact, that he hops up the deck stairs two at a time and _just_ catches the sliding glass door before Jared can close it in his face and laugh. Instead, Jared makes a goofy, disappointed frown then turns and runs through the house, shucking his shirt and hopping while he kicks off his shoes near the hallway.

As Jensen follows, he can hear how hard their footsteps are, especially as Jared pounds up the front stairs towards his room. Jensen calls out, “Be careful, asshole. I’m not cleaning up blood,” because he has had to do that before ...

“Okay, Mom!” are the infamous words before Jensen hears a yelp, muffled _thwack_, then the loud bang of what must be Jared hitting something _hard_. He freezes at the top of the stairs, only seeing one of Jared’s feet in the doorway, the rest of his body further inside the room.

Jensen’s heart has completely halted all function, his lungs, too, and suddenly he’s wondering if this is what their lives are meant to be: Jared constantly tearing up his body and Jensen having to put him back together.

“Jay?” Jensen asks a little panicked just before he manages to convince his feet to move down the hall.

“Ow.”

Jensen finally manages to get his heart and lungs back in working order and sighs, moving into the bedroom. From the doorway, he can see Jared star-fished on the floor, arms and legs spread wide. “What did you do?” Jensen asks flatly.

“I fell.”

“Obviously.”

Jared rolls to his side, pops up to his knees then feet in a second, and hops to the right so he can sit at the edge of the bed.

As he has far too often, Jensen settles on his knees to assess Jared’s leg. “So?” he prompts when Jared doesn’t do anything but stare at his right leg stretched out towards Jensen.

Jared mumbles something, but Jensen doesn’t catch it. It takes a few more attempts at speech until he clearly says, “I stubbed my toe.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but laughs as he carefully pulls Jared’s right foot into his lap and softly rubs his thumbs along Jared’s arch.

“I tripped at the edge of the bed and the pain made me lose my balance and I fell to the floor,” Jared admits. “I think I lost my coordination during the strike.”

“Did you have any to begin with?”

“Maybe?”

Jensen smiles at him, pressing his thumbs in with more intent, continuing to distract Jared from whatever pain he has. “And to think, you once won a Slam Dunk Contest?”

“You’re damn right I did.”

“And now I see why it was the only time.” Jared tries to tug his foot back as he frowns, but Jensen holds on tight, shaking it a little. “Now you see why you gotta watch what you’re doing?”

“Now you see why I always call you Mom?” Jared smarts back immediately.

Jensen sighs. “I nag because you never listen.”

“I listen all the time!” Jared insists. “Like last night when you told me to roll over so you could eat me out.”

Suddenly, Jensen remembers why this whole thing started, what they were aiming to do in the bedroom. The blood drumming through his system is hot and heavy, rushing right to his dick in seconds. He leans forward and nudges Jared back to the mattress, crawling over him and immediately rocking his hips down to Jared’s.

Like a script, Jared’s hands settle on Jensen’s hips and he bares his neck for Jensen to dip down and suck along. This is exactly how last night started … though Jensen’s not sure he has the patience today to get to the end. Especially not when the memory of making Jared whimper with a long bout of rimming then long, slow fucking are replaying in his mind and making him go impossibly hard, incredibly fast.

Jensen quickens his hips in short circles as they move together, encouraged by Jared’s long fingers dipping inside the back of Jensen’s work khakis. His fingertips are squeezing tight into the flesh of Jensen’s ass and tugging him in even closer and harder, and even while Jensen’s losing control of his mouth because of how quickly they’re getting there, Jensen turns his head to grab Jared’s mouth in a heated kiss.

In a far off part of his brain, Jensen tells himself to stop, slow down, undress, make this last. They’re both still in pants and shorts, for Christ’s sake, but he physically can’t, not when he has Jared’s dick pressing into his hip to remind him just how big his boyfriend is, how hot and sexy and _sexual_ he is despite how the rest of the world still expects him to walk around with the hottest girls on his arms.

And _that_ somehow always makes Jensen’s breath catch and his heart jump. It’s Jared and Jensen, not Jared and Katie or Sophia or Genevieve or whoever else used to pop up in Jared’s life and star in tabloids.

Jensen grinds down hard, as if it further proves his place in Jared’s life. It doesn’t, but Jared’s deep, guttural moan certainly does. So does the quick rut of Jared’s hips, the bitten-off curse, and the sudden slink of wetness between them as Jared slings a leg around Jensen’s thigh and finishes.

Wrapping his arms around Jared’s neck and shoulders, Jensen finds the last few seconds of his control until he, too, comes in his pants, rocking slowly to ride it out.

“God damn,” Jared huffs against Jensen’s mouth, sliding his leg so his foot is nestled between Jensen’s legs, thigh tight around Jensen’s knee. “I love when you do that.”

Jensen has no power to move, so he just nestles against Jared’s warm body and hums in reply.

“When you get all crazy and just jump me,” Jared explains.

Jensen snorts softly and rises to his elbows so he can look down at Jared, just barely finding his shiny, happy eyes in the dark. “So, I can stop wasting my time trying to seduce you?”

“When were you ever trying to seduce me?”

With a thoughtful noise, Jensen nods. “Alright, yeah, good point.”

Jared rubs his foot along the inside of Jensen’s leg. “Not saying I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

Jensen chuckles and lightly bumps his forehead to Jared’s before dropping his voice, purposely overdoing it. “Maybe some night, you’ll be on the road, come back to the hotel, and find me under a bed of rose petals, completely naked and just waiting for you to ravage me.”

It’s a quick flip for Jared to turn them over, laughing as he does so. “That is the most ridiculous image ever.”

He runs his hands over Jared’s sides and smiles up at him. “I thought you’d like that.”

“But you’re gonna surprise me on the road?” Jared asks, face suddenly blank of emotion, like he’s trying to remain impartial to the idea.

“Maybe,” Jensen replies, shrugging. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” Jared replies instantly. “How will I survive without you and your nagging?”

Narrowing his eyes, Jensen warns, “Watch it.”

“And your mouth,” he adds with a quick kiss. “And your dick.”

Jensen reaches between them and pushes at the waistband of Jared’s basketball shorts, smirking with heated eyes. “Then we better make sure you don’t forget how great they both are.”


	6. Timestamp: The Olympics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared's ready to ship off to the Olympics. Jensen, maybe not so ready ...

"Are you sure this is okay?" Jensen asks, for what feels like the twentieth time.

Jared looks up from his suitcase and glares at Jensen across the bed. "The first thirty times you asked, yes, it was okay. But the thirty-first? Man, now I'm not so sure."

"I'm just saying," Jensen says as casually as possible. "Once I'm on that flight, there's no turning back."

Jared flaps his suitcase shut, rounds the bed, and stands in front of Jensen, who keeps fussing with his own packing. "Do you not wanna go?"

Jensen gives Jared a crazy look because _not going_ is pretty damned crazy. "Uh, it's the Olympics. Of course I wanna go." When Jared doesn't reply to that, Jensen adds on, "I wanna watch you play and hang out and maybe go watch some other sports."

"What other sports?"

Jensen shrugs. He hasn't given it that much thought. "Men's volleyball?" Jared's eyebrow goes high as if he's truly bothered and jealous by that. Jensen smirks. "Can you blame me?"

In lieu of answering, Jared tackles Jensen to the bed, and Jensen gladly lets Jared overpower him to his back and hold his hands to the mattress on either side of his head. 

"And I'm guessing you want me to come," Jensen says. "So I'll stop asking now."

"Oh, baby, I always want you to come," Jared whispers, leaning down to suck on Jensen's ear lobe.


	7. Timestamp: In Public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to go unnoticed at Lollapalooza.

"Hey, the good news is -"

Jared's eyebrow goes so high, it disappears beneath the brim of his hat. "There's good news?" 

Jensen shrugs as they both look at the huge mass of people gathered in front of the main stage. "It's so hot out here, everyone will be dehydrated and delusional and they won't now who you are."

"That's good news?" Jared asks flatly.

"Good news_ish_."

Jared chuckles and shakes his head. "You're full of bad ideas, you know that?"

"And you're full of yourself," Jensen chides. "Stop thinking that everyone's looking for you. They're not. I doubt anyone here gives a shit about who you are."

"Wow. That is so encouraging."

Jensen grins. "You're welcome."

Jared, sadly, has to give it to Jensen because for the few hours they're hanging at the music festival to see a few bands they both favor, no one has recognized the city's biggest athlete. 

Jensen must spot the angry turn to his face, because he laughs and elbows Jared. "What? Now you're pissed that I was right?"

"No. It's just ... it's hot out here," he says instead. 

A few hours later when the sun has gone down and the sky is lit up by the stage's lights and the glow of skyscrapers in the distance, a young girl stands in front of them with the recognizable wide-eyes and dropped-jaw surprise Jared's seen hundreds of times before. "Oh my god, you're ... you're that basketball player, aren't you?"

"No," Jared says, followed by Jensen's "Yes, he is."

She frowns, and so does Jared, because he's not really sure what he wants to do here. "You look just like him."

"I get that a lot."

"You really look like him."

"Yeah," Jared says plainly, realizing he suddenly doesn't want to make a fuss over it. 

Once she's convinced he's not him, she moves on and Jensen's watching him oddly. 

"What?" Jared asks a bit sharply.

"Nothing," Jensen says idly, turning back to watch the band on stage. 

"If I'm me, then I can't do this." Jared rings his arm around Jensen's back then slides his hand into the back pocket of Jensen's khaki shorts. 

Jensen leans into him and does the same, tucking his fingers in tight to grab Jared's ass. "You can do that any time you want, Mr. Padalecki."


End file.
